


But You're Mine

by TimidTurnip



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bottom Peter Parker, Bruising, Cock Cage, Cock Ring, Edging, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, M/M, Marking, Oblivious Peter Parker, Orgasm Denial, Peter Parker is a masochist, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Wade Wilson, Repressed Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Top Wade Wilson, Wade being forceful, previous Peter/MJ
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimidTurnip/pseuds/TimidTurnip
Summary: Peter doesn’t understand what he keeps doing wrong, how he could yet again find himself dumped.Wade’s tired of watching Spidey go after the wrong person and isn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. So he proposes that he knows just what is missing in Peter’s life, himself.Or how Peter finds out just how satisfying it is to submit.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 95
Kudos: 360
Collections: Isn't it Bromantic?





	1. A DEAL IS MADE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vixen13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/gifts).



>   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On several occasions I have heard Vixen complain about the lack of orgasm denial fics out there. So rolled up my sleeves and vowed to help add to the list. What I thought was gonna be a pwp ended up with a whole bunch of feelings and the start of a longer thing. Oops.  
> Thanks to Voidbean for always cheering me on and being a horrible enabler, [shadows_at_midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadows_at_midnight/pseuds/shadows_at_midnight) for the awesome beta work, and [Siyuris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyuris/pseuds/Siyuris) for the validating the hell out of me. You guys rock.

The cold concrete rooftop of the Long Lines building is Peter’s sole comfort, the chill of it making him go numb. He lays out across the edge, staring down at the city below as it continues to move on about its business despite the fact that Peter has lost everything. The wind whips around him at high speeds, and it gives Peter something to concentrate on other than his own thoughts. 

He’s eating from a pile of hotdogs large enough to make a cardiac surgeon wince. Normally he would be more concerned about blowing so much money on street food, but he can afford all the bad decisions he wants now that he doesn’t have a girlfriend. It’s a relief, _really_ . He doesn’t miss MJ at _all_. 

He has more time for Spider-Man now. More time for himself. Just, _more_ time.

There is no need to juggle so much in his life and to constantly be dropping the ball. No more pretending to care about whatever the fashion trend is that week or the plot of the play she’s acting in that month. No more scrambling to try and make it to reservations at restaurants he can’t afford. 

Peter stares down at the last hotdog, forlorn. They disappeared so quickly. “Everything good eventually comes to an end.” He should have gotten more hotdogs, twelve was obviously not enough.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him has Peter choking around his last bite. He turns as he sits up to see Deadpool of all people, who quickly makes his way over to give Peter a thump on the back. The lodged chunk of processed meat makes its way out and is spat out over the side of the building, disappearing as it falls. 

“Thanks,” Peter croaks out between coughs.

“What’s got you feeling so down you’ve stopped chewing your food? Seriously you should chew your food.”

Peter just sighs and lays back down, ready to let himself become one with the cement. “Do you think I would make a good gargoyle?”

Wade sits himself down at the end of Peter’s feet and pulls them onto his lap, Peter doesn’t have the energy to stop him. “Spidey, I wish there were statues of your beauty adorning every rooftop.”

“Gargoyles are supposed to be grotesque, that’s why I want to be one. I’m grotesque. Not fit for human interaction, only lurking atop of buildings.”

Wade’s fingers dig into the arches of Peter’s feet, pressing hard enough that Peter can feel it through the thin soles of his shoes. It’s the greatest thing he’s felt in weeks, maybe longer. He stretches his legs out further so Wade has better access. 

“It’s a good thing I’m not human, we can start our own little gargoyle club. Not to be confused with the one I started for the tv show. We might need a better name.” 

“Just a couple of grotesque guys.” 

“Give me three G’s and I’m in.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I feel sorry for the people you’ve dated.”

Peter kicks at Wade’s gut making him gasp in pain and double over himself. “I hit a little too close to the mark on the one, huh?” Wade wheezes out.

“I’m a fun guy, I listen and do romantic things. So what if I’m sometimes late? Is that really _so_ bad? It shouldn’t be this hard to hold onto a girlfriend.”

Wade huffs and resettles Peter’s legs in his lap. He moves onto rubbing at Peter’s calves, his fingers moving in slow circles. “Not everyone can appreciate the superhero schedule, easier to just date another one. Have save-the-world-dates.” 

Peter groans in appreciation as Wade finds a particularly tense spot. “Tried that. Well, kinda tried, it never really got off the ground because she couldn’t stop stealing.”

“That does seem _problematic_ , you should consider someone that is actually willing to turn over a new leaf for you. Maybe someone who was willing to stop killing for you even.”

Pulling his legs back, Peter sits up so he can properly look at Wade. “I’m really going through something here, DP. I don’t need your jokes.”

“Who’s joking?” 

Peter kicks at Wade’s thigh but Wade grabs his ankle, his hand wrapping around it easily. Peter’s heart races. “Seriously, I don’t feel up for your jokes.”

Wade’s grip tightens, and in one swift movement he tugs Peter’s leg so that he slides across the roof and right into Wade’s lap. He fits easily, Wade’s thighs large enough to accommodate him and then some. Wade’s breath is hot against Peter’s neck, his voice so low it rumbles. “When it comes to you I’m more serious than an all you can eat breakfast buffet.”

Peter shoves at Wade’s shoulders and stumbles backwards out of his lap. His feet are still resting in Wade’s lap, and without missing a beat Wade just goes right back to rubbing at them. This time it does anything but relax Peter, he wants to pull away but can’t bring himself to break the contact. The feeling of Wade’s fingers burn through his suit. He can’t seem to catch his breath, the sound of his breathing loud in the night air. 

Wade seems unfazed by what he’s doing to Peter and hums a simple tune. It takes Peter a second to place it as the Flintstones theme. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” Wade stresses as he pushes down particularly hard on the sole of Peter’s foot. 

“It has to be a joke.” Peter doesn’t know how to handle things if it’s not a joke. Doesn’t know how to handle their entire history, all the things Wade has said over the years. Wade’s just like that with everyone. All innuendo and inappropriate comments about the shape of their ass.

_Isn’t he?_

“So this gloomy attitude means you’re back on the market?” He stops rubbing at Peter’s feet to grip his ankles. Wade holds him in place like he can read the thoughts swimming around in Peter’s head that are telling him to jump off the roof. He locks eyes with Peter, waiting for his answer.

“I’m not ready to be back on the market,” Peter admits, not sure if he’d ever be ready for the calamity that is Wade Wilson. 

Wade sighs and let’s go of Peter’s ankles to lean back, his hands resting behind him. He stares up at the night sky looking more thoughtful than Peter can recall ever seeing him before. It’s not like Wade to let people know he thinks. 

“You know, you say that every time. Despite your horrible luck, you never seem to be single for more than a week. You flit around from relationship to relationship. I thought this last one might be the one that stole you away for good, but here we are again moping around on rooftops. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers, not again. So, no jokes this time. This is me saying I want you.”

“I’m not even-” Peter wants to say he’s not even attracted to men but can’t bring himself to say the words knowing Wade will see right through the lie. Even if Peter’s never let himself act on it, he’s always looked and wondered. He’s not sure how Wade even _knew_. Instead he admits something else. “I’ve never dated another man.”

“You’re not sure you’ll like it.” It’s not a question, Wade talks like he’s already aware of every little concern Peter has. Wade’s voice is firm as he commands, “Kiss me and find out.”

Peter’s face must be as bright as his suit and he can’t help but shrink away. Wade just wants him to _kiss_ him? Just like that? Peter can’t do such a thing, but Wade’s already pushing his mask up like he doesn’t expect Peter to say no. 

His breath hitches when Wade starts toward him, crawling forward on his hands and knees. Peter can’t bring himself to back away, he just sinks down onto the ground, the back of his head hitting the cement in a thud. Wade crawls up the length of Peter’s body, the bulk of his body blocking out the rest of the world. Frozen in place, all Peter can do is stare as Wade hovers over him, arms bracketing him on either side. He should push Wade away. He should flee. He should do _something_. 

His mind has gone blank. All he can concentrate on is the warmth radiating off of Wade’s body.

He forgets to breathe as Wade slowly lowers his head, his lips brushing against Peter’s in an almost kiss. There’s a pause, Wade’s lips so close that Peter can feel the heat of his breath against his own. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, thinking he can almost taste Wade. It hits Peter that he wants more than anything to fully feel the pressure of Wade’s kiss, not just that small tease. He’s surging forward before he can stop himself, arching up to meet Wade’s lips. It’s all the permission Wade needs, the full force of him crashing down onto Peter. Every press of his lips feels like a demand for more, more, _more_. 

And Peter wants to give it. He grips at the front of Wade’s suit and tries to pull him down closer wanting to feel every part of Wade against him. To know what it is like to feel those lips on every inch of his body. 

Is this what all kisses should be like? To leave you wanting more? Make your body feel like it’s been set aflame from the inside?

A firm hand in the middle of Peter’s chest shoves him away forcefully. Peter is shocked, all the warmth from Wade gone in an instant, leaving him freezing in the night. The merc is settling back down across from Peter, his legs crossed in front of himself.

Peter feels dizzy, unsure of what just happened. Wade looks horribly smug with himself. 

Peter has so many questions and things he wants to say. His tongue feels sluggish in his mouth and unable to form any words. It feels like it takes him an eternity to sit back up.

“Tomorrow, my place at eight. No suit and don’t be late.” Wade insists.

Peter blinks, trying to wrap his mind around what Wade is saying. “Your place?”

Wade hums in agreement, his smile widening. “You’re going to crawl right into my bed so I can fuck you so hard the people downstairs think they’re extras in a Godzilla movie.”

Peter chokes on the air he was breathing. “What?”

“We’re gonna crumble the foundation, baby.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry at the thought of it. He’s not ready for that. "No date first?"

"Date?" Deadpool throws back his head and laughs. "You know exactly how a date with me would go. I'll make you go to three different taco trucks, you'll say something stupid, I'll say something worse. There will be laughter.

"What you don't know is what it's like to be in my bed. To have my sole focus be your pleasure. I’m going to tap into desires you don’t even know you have. Don't you want to find out what I can do?"

Peter's skin feels hot. "It's too sudden."

Wade imitates the sound of the penalty buzzer from every game show Peter’s ever watched. "It's long overdue. I’m staking my claim, baby boy. Planting my flag.”

“I’m not an island.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest. He’s not just a piece of meat for Wade to chew on.

“Still gonna ravage your lands.”

Peter squawks in protest. “What makes you think I’m going to do what you say?”

“Honey,” Wade all but purrs. “After me, you won’t need anyone else. The things I’m going to do for you, do _to_ you are going to make everyone else a freaking joke.”

How can Wade be so confident? Peter’s had lots of great romance in his life, how can Deadpool of all people compare? He wants to protest, laugh in Wade’s face for even suggesting such a thing. Yet, his lips still ache from his kiss and Peter wants with every fiber of his being to feel it again.

“That’s eight o’clock _sharp_. Don’t be late.” Wade leaves no room for argument as he pushes up from the ground, looking like a mammoth of a man from where Peter sits.

Peter gulps, feeling intimidated by a man he’s seen breakdown and sob over a dropped milkshake. 

Wade’s walking away with a shake of his ass, humming something to himself as he does. He’s gone over the side of the building before Peter can get his mouth working to say something. 

Peter feels like he should be more worried about the fact that Wade just told him not to wear his suit. It’s not like Peter’s ever shown his face before. Instead, all Peter can concentrate on is that Wade wants to _fuck_ him and the anticipation he feels over it. Does Wade fuck like he fights? Every movement somehow precise yet wild. An untamable wildfire burning everything in its path.

And now it’s Peter caught in his path and he can’t see a way out. 

He goes to stand, his legs shaking beneath him. The wind whips around him and he shivers, hugging his arms around himself. He wants to believe he won’t show up at Wade’s tomorrow, that he’s going to ignore Wade. It would be so easy to forget this whole incident. 

The laughter that comes out of himself doesn't even feel like his own. There are tears in his eyes from the force of it. He feels crazed, like his brain is going to jump right out of his head and do a swan dive off the building.

_He's going to let Deadpool fuck him._

The words keep repeating themselves, echoing in Peter's mind the entire way home. It doesn't stop even when he crawls into bed. 

It's the first thing he thinks when he wakes up in the morning. His mind helpfully goes over all the different scenarios.

He compulsively checks the time even though it’s moving at a pace that would make a snail wince in sympathy. He showers and gets dressed. He changes his mind and grabs a different outfit. He changes his mind again. He sweats from the nerves and goes for another shower.

Eventually he lands on wearing his oldest shirt that doesn't have any holes in it (except for the small one in the armpit, but it’s hardly noticeable). It's incredibly soft and a little tighter than the others from shrinkage over the years. 

When seven o’clock hits, Peter’s feet are out the door before he can stop himself. His heart races the entire trip to Wade’s. He keeps having to wipe the sweat from his palms on his jeans. 

He repeats the carefully practiced speech he’s prepared of how this isn’t a good idea. That they shouldn’t ruin their friendship. 

It’s been over a few months since he was last at Wade’s apartment, but he’s been there more times than he can count. Wade always gets the newest video games as soon as they drop, and is willing to order Peter a pizza. Things Peter just assumed until now were something Wade would do for a buddy. He should have known Wade was too selfish for something like that. 

Wade buzzes Peter into the building without a word, and answers the door on the first knock. He's dressed in nothing but a pair of sweats, the scars on his chest in full view. Peter spends enough time with Wade that it doesn’t even register to him as something he should be disgusted by anymore. Instead he takes in the width of Wade’s shoulders, and how they take up most of the doorway. 

If Wade has anything to say about the way Peter looks he doesn’t voice it, a real rarity. Instead he just looks Peter over, making a motion for Peter to give a little spin. Peter slowly turns, letting Wade view him from all angles. When he’s facing Wade again, it’s to a look of pure hunger. It sends an anticipatory shiver down Peter’s spine, feeling pleased despite himself that Wade finds him desirable. 

Wade grabs the front of Peter’s shirt and drags him into the apartment. Peter doesn’t even have a chance to get a word in before Wade’s mouth is on his. There is nothing gentle about the way Wade kisses him. It’s harsh and fast. It leaves Peter feeling dizzy. When Wade finally pushes him away, Peter stumbles and catches himself on the door frame.

He can’t remember a word of his speech.

Wade leads him into the rest of the apartment, it looks nothing like it did the last time he was there. There isn’t a single piece of trash on the floor, in fact there is _nothing_ on the floor. No spare shirts, not even the tv remote. It’s, to put it frankly, _immaculate_. 

“What the hell happened to your place?” Peter asks in shock, his eyes going wide.

Wade’s grin is all teeth. “I like to start with a clean canvas, we’re going to make _such_ a mess.”

Peter nods his head, feeling way out of his depth. Just what was he thinking coming here? He doesn’t know what to do, too scared to sit on the couch or touch anything for fear of displacing it. 

Wade leans against the wall taking in Peter’s anxious state. “Do you want anything before we get started?”

Peter just shakes his head, not even sure what he should be wanting before such a thing. 

“Alright,” Wade says. “Strip those clothes like you need to make a living and go sit in the middle of my bed. I’ll be right there.”

Unsure if Wade means he’s supposed to put on a show or not, Peter takes a tentative step towards Wade’s room. He’s relieved when Wade doesn’t go to stop him, and he rushes the rest of the way, shutting the door behind him when he gets there. Is this what it feels like when normal people climb into a lion’s cage? 

Peter takes a deep breath and glances around Wade’s room, it’s just as tidy as the rest of the apartment. There is nothing on top of the bed, not a single pillow or blanket. The sheets are pulled so tight there is not a single crease visible, reminding Peter that Wade has extensive military training. Peter wants to see if he can bounce a quarter, but lacks the change to do so.

If he didn’t think Wade would hunt him down for doing so, Peter would climb out the window right now. He was going to stay just long enough to give his speech, and yet here he is in Wade’s bedroom fantasizing about the kiss from a second ago. 

Worse of all, he’s _curious._ He wants to know what Wade has planned. 

Unsure of how long he has to get undressed, he quickly pulls his shirt off. It feels weird to drop it on the floor, and not knowing what else to do with it he folds it quickly and places it on top of the dresser. Something he’s never done before in his _life_. The rest of his clothes follow, though he hesitates over his boxers before adding them to the others. The resulting pile looks sloppy despite his best efforts.

He just manages to climb into the center of the bed when Wade opens the door. A small pleased smile forms on his face as he takes in the sight of Peter and the attempt he made at keeping his clothes neat. The door is kept open, and despite the fact that Peter knows there is no one else in the apartment it leaves him feeling exposed.

The bed dips under Wade’s weight when he sits. The fact that there are no blankets around makes sense because if there were any Peter would be diving underneath them right now. The most he can do is bring his knees up to his chest and tuck in on himself. There is a bottle in Wade’s hand, he sets it down on the bed between them. Peter eyes it with trepidation. 

“Topple like the waffle.” Wade forcefully pushes at Peter’s legs, tipping him backwards onto the bed.

He bounces twice, his limbs flailing outwards before catching himself on the bed and stopping himself. His first thought is to cover himself, but Wade grabs his wrist and stops him. He expects Wade to look down between his legs, instead he stares right into Peter’s eyes.

"You tell me to stop and I'll back off faster than a hooker seeing an empty wallet." There is no humour in his voice.

Peter gives a nod of his head and just like that Wade's hands are everywhere, pushing up along Peter's torso. Wade's mouth is hot against Peter's skin as he kisses down along Peter's thigh.

It was strange to have none of the lead up to having Wade nipping at the flesh of his thighs. Just another example of Wade doing what he wants, Peter doesn't understand why the thought is so arousing, but he's already hard in anticipation, his cock leaking against his stomach. Wade’s mouth moves up along Peter's thigh until he’s nuzzling right into Peter’s pubes. He cups at Peter’s balls before pulling one into his mouth, his tongue adding a pressure he’s never felt there before. Wade rubs his fingers along Peter’s perineum in small firm movements that has Peter arching off the bed. Wade runs his tongue up along the vein on Peter’s cock before sucking at the tip. 

All Peter wants to do is thrust up into Wade’s mouth, he already feels ridiculously close to coming. Wade stops him from doing so with a firm hand on Peter’s hip that pushes him back down flush against the bed. Peter knows that Wade doesn’t actually have the strength to make him do anything, and yet he can’t help letting Wade dictate his movements. The warmth of Wade’s mouth disappears as he pulls back to sit at Peter’s feet.

“Don’t stop _now_ ,” Peter complains as he props himself up with his elbows to glare at Wade.

“Don’t you worry, that was just a little taste to show you that I know what I’m doing.” He gives a wink as he crawls off the bed to stand. 

“You want a gold sticker or something?” Peter drawls, wanting nothing more than to shove Wade back between his thighs.

“Why, do you have any?”

Peter pats at his sides as if he has pockets to check. “Must be in my other suit.”

“I want to know that you believe me so far and trust that I know what you want.” Wade hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats. 

“ _I_ don’t even know what I want.” The words tumble out of Peter’s mouth as his eyes stay locked onto the fact that at any second those pants could disappear. 

Wade smirks, pushing his sweats down past his hip bones. “All the more reason to trust me.”

“I feel like you're asking for something I can’t give.”

Wade throws back his head and laughs. “You’re going to be begging me at the end of the night for more. _I_ know what you want, even if you don’t.”

A part of Peter scoffs at the idea. Sex is fun, sure, and Peter likes it just as much as the next guy, but to go so far to say that he would be _begging_ Wade to stay seems like a stretch. “You can’t just look at someone and know what they want in bed.”

Yet there isn’t an ounce of doubt on Wade’s face as he pulls his sweats down to the floor and kicks them off. “You get this certain _way_ when you’re around me. You don’t let anyone else push you around like you let me. I know by the way you’re looking at me right now, and how you want permission to look.”

In an act of defiance Peter finally drops his eyes to take in the view of Wade’s cock, flushed but only partly hard. Even then Peter can only bring himself to take a quick glance, his eyes darting over the rest of Wade’s body. Wade stands there proudly, unashamed to let Peter look him over, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so confident in being naked.

When Wade deems enough time has passed, he crawls back onto the bed until he is next to Peter. He grabs Peter’s wrist firmly, and pulls his hand slowly down until he’s touching Wade’s cock. Once that initial barrier is broken, Wade let’s go so Peter can fully explore. 

He’s never touched another man like this, never considered how exciting he would find it. His breath hitches as Wade grows harder in his palm. It doesn’t seem fair that Wade should get to be bigger than him and Peter feels the need to write the universe a _strongly_ worded letter about it. He takes his time touching every inch of it, running his thumb along the vein on the underside. 

Wade whispers into Peter’s ear, “That’s going inside you.”

Peter snatches his hand back like it was burned. “It doesn’t have to.”

Wade chuckles into the crook of Peter’s neck. He presses a quick kiss before saying, “Roll over for me, sugar.”

Despite his hesitance over everything, he still follows along and flips over onto his stomach. He buries his face into the sheets, glad for the reprieve from Wade’s gaze heavy on him.

Wade presses soft kisses into the back of his neck and down along the length of his spine. They feel like a tease, and remind Peter of his own erection. 

Wade grabs Peter’s hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls Peter’s ass up into the air. He positions Peter to his liking, pushing a knee between Peter’s thighs and forcing them open wide enough so Wade can settle between them. The effect is that Peter ends up feeling exposed in a way he never has before. 

“Like a peach,” Wade mutters out just before biting into the flesh of Peter’s ass hard enough that it stings. 

Peter cries out and tries to pull away only to have Wade’s hands tighten around his waist. He hisses out when Wade bites again and tries to kick back at him. “I’m not a _chew toy_.”

Wade’s answer to that is to bite Peter’s other cheek. He moves his hands to pull Peter’s cheeks apart and Peter can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant sight, but Wade practically growls at it. The feeling of Wade’s tongue across his hole makes Peter jump, an undignified squeak escaping his lips. 

“Holy shit, why the hell would you lick _there_.”

He can feel the rumble of Wade’s laughter as he swipes his tongue out again against Peter hole. It feels weird in a different way this time. He actually thinks it feels _good_ . Then Wade does it again and Peter _knows_ it felt good. Wade’s tongue circles around again and again. Each pass of his tongue seems to find a new set of nerves that make Peter want to squirm. Wade seals his lips down against Peter’s hole and presses the tip of his tongue inside. 

Peter shouts, surprised at the pleasure of the way Wade’s tongue darts in and out. He pushes back into the sensation without meaning to in an attempt to keep that tongue inside himself. The wet slurp of Wade working away fills the room and easily ranks in the top spot of the most obscene things Peter has ever heard. He can feel his cock twitch and he can’t believe how close he feels to coming from something that should be vile. 

Wade’s fingers are probably leaving bruises in the flesh of his ass, his grip firm as he keeps them pried apart. Peter never knew this was something he would have liked, never mind how he craves more. Wade’s tongue presses in further, the wider part of it stretching Peter open. It’s gone all too soon and Peter wants to sob at the loss. The most he gets is just feather light brushes along his rim. 

Peter doesn’t know if there are protocols in place for these sort of situations, but he can’t help himself from reaching down between his legs to grab hold of his dick to start jerking himself off. He’s so close. So _very_ close. 

Wade’s tongue flattens down before dipping back inside, and Peter is just about to come when Wade grabs hold of his wrist to pull Peter’s hand away. Wade twists Peter around and flips him onto his back.

“Hey!” Peter shouts. All he can think about it pulling Wade back down to his ass, which really isn’t anything he ever thought he would want. Usually he’s doing his best to keep Wade _away_ from his ass. 

Before he can object further though, Wade is grabbing at the back of Peter’s neck and pulling him into a kiss that steals all the words from Peter’s mouth. The kiss is insistent, Wade’s tongue pushing into his mouth and demanding that Peter make room for it. 

It leaves Peter’s head spinning to the point where he can’t tell up from down. He can taste the muskiness of himself on Wade, it’s proof of what just happened. The hand on the back of his neck makes him feel like he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t want to. He likes how dirty Wade makes him feel. It’s unlike anything he’s had before with anyone.

They break apart and Wade grins down at Peter, the corner of his eyes crinkling. 

“That’s _gross_ , I know where your mouth has been.”

Wade’s grin widens, each of his pearly white teeth on display. “So should I not kiss you anymore or not eat out your ass?”

The thought of having to lose out on either one of those things seems like a fate worse than death. His mouth goes dry from hanging open so long while trying to think of what to say. His tongue darts out as he tries to moisten them just a little. “I think you promised to blow my mind and so far I’m only mildly impressed.”

“The fact that your cock has been steadily leaking says otherwise.”

Peter makes a quick jab with his knee at Wade’s thigh. “I’m going to get up and leave soon.”

In retaliation Wade bites at Peter’s shoulder, his teeth sinking in hard enough to leave marks. Peter tries to twist away but Wade hangs on like a dog with a bone, his teeth only sinking in further. 

Peter wails and digs his nails into Wade’s back. If he didn’t think Wade would take a chunk of flesh with him Peter would have shoved him right off. One of Wade’s hands wriggles down between their sweaty bodies to cup at Peter’s balls, a finger stretches out to rub behind them. Peter’s cry of pain turns to one of pleasure as Wade continues to fondle him. Peter finds himself chanting Wade’s name as he no longer wants to push him away, but holds Wade’s head where it is.The bite turns into a soft kiss that moves up along his neck until Wade is kissing at the underside of Peter’s jaw.

“Let go, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve watched the way you act after taking a beating. I _know_.”

Peter shakes his head, not wanting to face the dark part of himself that he’s tried so hard to keep hidden. The part that likes it when he digs his nails into his thigh while he jerks off. The part that gets excited when he presses down on his bruises. It’s not something someone is supposed to _like_ , and definitely not the kind of thing that should get him hard. 

He whispers, “But I’m a good boy.”

Wade’s hand moves up to stroke along Peter’s cock, his other hand pressing down into the bite mark. Peter gasps in pleasure, the familiar feeling of adrenaline pumps through his body making him feel like he could go forever. Wade smugly states, “You’re wrong, you’re _my_ good boy and I don’t accept lies from what’s mine.”

Wade’s rocking his body into Peter’s, the length of his cock pressing against Peter’s thigh and smearing precome. Wade keeps pressing his thumb into Peter’s shoulder, making sure there is a tinge of pain the entire time. There’s this twist Wade keeps doing with his wrist that has Peter teetering on the edge. 

He’s so close to coming he wants to scream when Wade’s hand disappears. He doesn’t get the chance though because Wade’s kissing him again, both his hands moving up to cup the sides of Peter’s face. 

Peter loves the way Wade kisses him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters in that moment. All the words in the world didn’t make him believe that Wade wanted him, but with each press of his lips Peter knows what he means to Wade. It’s an intoxicating feeling, one that Peter could definitely get lost in. 

Wade stops and sits up to search the bed for the bottle he had earlier, giving a little ‘huzzah’ when he finds it. He grabs one of Peter’s ankles and throws it over his shoulder. He pushes Peter’s other leg out to the side so that Peter’s legs are splayed wide open. 

Wade’s eyes roam Peter’s body, drinking up the sight before himself like he’s a starving man sitting before a feast. It makes Peter fear that he’s going to end up with more than just the one bite mark before the night is done. 

The top of the bottle is popped open, and Wade coats his first two fingers with enough lube that it drips down to his wrist. Peter expects him to immediately push them inside, but instead Wade just circles them around Peter’s rim. He keeps adding more lube to his fingers before circling them teasingly at Peter’s hole. It’s maddening. It takes everything in Peter not to screech at him to just push inside, but he doesn’t want to seem so eager and let Wade know he’s getting to him. Even if it might be a lost cause at this point.

“You think about getting fucked a lot, don’t you?” Wade asks as just the tip of his finger presses against Peter’s ass. 

Peter can feel the muscles try to suck that finger in. It’s all he can concentrate on, and it takes more effort than it should to form words and speak. “Define _lots_.”

“The amount you think about it.” Wade chooses the moment to slide his finger inside Peter. It goes in so easily, Peter’s body greedily opening up for it. Wade doesn’t stop until the entirety of his finger is in, the knuckle of his hand pressing flush into the crease between Peter’s cheeks. 

The sensation has Peter throwing his head back, eyes pressed tightly closed. He grabs at the sheets, twisting them in his grip. He can feel Wade rubbing his finger inside, searching. 

Wade sounds so calm when he speaks, like he’s asking Peter about the weather. “How often do you do this to yourself?”

Something about the situation makes him not even consider lying. “I don’t.”

Wade stills, his voice faltering as he asks. “Ever?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop if I went down that road.” Peter’s afraid to open his eyes and see the sort of expression Wade is wearing. “So I never let myself try. I was a good boy.”

Wade starts to move his finger again, slowly drawing it out so he can sharply push it back in. Whatever his feelings on the matter are, his voice doesn’t betray them. “So the fact that you’re letting me do this is sorta a big deal?”

“Maybe I just think it’s the best way to get you to finally shut up about my ass.” Peter gasps as Wade presses against his prostate. He wasn’t sure what to expect but it makes fireworks go off behind his eyes. 

“It must be hard to swim with how dense you are. I’m _never_ going to stop talking about your ass.” 

“Hey—” Peter’s protest gets cut off by Wade firmly pushing in another finger. It’s fast, the burn of it making Peter hiss out in displeasure. It does nothing to slow down Wade, who insistently rubs along Peter’s prostate until Peter starts to relax. The pain bleeds into the pleasure, mixing together in a way Wade seems so insistent on. Peter has never thought that pain had any place in the bedroom before tonight, but Wade is making a compelling case of its behalf.

Wade grabs at the bottle again, pulling his fingers out so he can apply more lube. He spends a minute just pushing as much lube as he can manage into Peter’s ass. It gets to the point where it just starts leaking out. Peter wouldn’t be surprised if the whole bottle had gotten used up at this point. 

Peter feels so slick that there is hardly any resistance when Wade decides to slip them back inside, scissoring his fingers and stretching Peter wide. He feels so sloppy with those fingers working their way into him over and over. It’s too much and not enough. Peter wants to look but he can’t bring himself. He just keeps gripping the sheets, hanging on for the ride. 

“You look like a whore, like this. Stop biting your lip and let yourself sound like one too.”

“You’re the whore.” Peter spits back, but he lets out a small groan all the same when Wade hooks his fingers into his prostate. 

“Think you could come just like this, or do you need more? I bet I could get my whole hand in here.”

“If you try such a thing I’ll chop it off!” Peter protests as he attempts to pull away from Wade but the fingers inside of him coax him back. He’s ashamed of the way it works.

“If you want a souvenir all you have to do is ask.”

Peter kicks at Wade’s shoulder. “I don’t want to go home covered in your blood.”

“No you just want me to pump you full of so much cum that it’s dripping down your thigh when you stand up.”

The thought has Peter biting his lip to keep quiet. He wants to deny it and scream at Wade for suggesting such a thing. Instead he finds himself pushing back onto Wade’s fingers and trying to take them deeper. 

“You’ve always been so polite and respectful in bed, haven’t you?” Wade asks, not waiting for a response before continuing on. “But you’ve always wanted to be a little slut. You just needed a little coaxing to get there.”

Peter gasps, wanting to twist away. The shame he feels from Wade’s words mix with the arousal and have him so close.

Wade sounds amused as he says, “All you gotta do is ask for my cock and it’s yours.”

Peter wants to get fucked more than anything, not that he can let Wade know that. “I don’t know, your fingers seem to be doing a fine job.”

Wade gives one last wriggle of his fingers before pulling them free. He swats at Peter’s ass making a loud smack that has Peter finally opening his eyes in shock. He glares at Wade and kicks at him again but that only earns him another swat on the ass. 

“Fine, _please_ give me your cock so I can finally go home and get some studying done.”

“You actually think you’re going to be able to think after this?” Wade chuckles as he rubs his cock between Peter’s cheeks, letting Peter have an idea of just how much he’s going to have to take. 

Two of Wade’s fingers felt like more than enough, Peter doesn’t know how he is going to handle all of Wade. “You’re right, I shouldn’t risk it. I should just go…” 

Peter tries to crawl backwards and away from Wade but doesn’t get very far. Wade grabs hold of his thighs and drags him back down the bed, stopping only for a second so he can line himself up with Peter’s ass. When he pulls Peter this time, he’s pulling him right down onto his cock. 

It’s difficult for Peter to sometimes remember he has the strength to stop things, but despite the fact that it happens too fast he just lets Wade push entirely inside in one fluid push. He cries out, feeling so weirdly full. He thinks he hates it but also can’t bear the thought of Wade pulling out. 

He risks taking a look at Wade, only to find the man gritting his teeth. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” Wade grunts out. 

Peter takes in a shaky breath, realizing a little late that he had been holding his breath. “Maybe you’re the problem here. You and you’re stupid big cock. You know that hurt right?” 

Wade’s only answer to that is draw out and start fucking into Peter. He doesn’t start gentle, he fucks like he’s trying to prove a point. Which maybe he is. Whatever the point is, Peter feels like he’s starting to get it or at least his cock is. He’d be ashamed of how hard he is just from how rough Wade is being with him if he had a moment to stop and consider such things. 

Instead he just cries out again and again as Wade pounds into him hard enough to make the bed shake. Wade leans in close, capturing the sounds Peter is making with his lips. Peter lets go of the sheets to grab at Wade, his nails digging into the flesh of his back. 

Words Peter never thought he would say come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop. “Wade, please, I’m so close. Please, Wade. I need you to touch me.”

It’s a relief when Wade takes hold of his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. His toes curl in pleasure, his body tensing before release. The bliss doesn’t last long before Wade grabs hold of the base of Peter’s dick and _squeezes_ , stopping any chance Peter has of coming. The act breaks Peter’s brain, who wants to come so badly he might scream. 

“Not yet,” Wade whispers sweetly. 

Peter digs his nails harder into Wade’s back until he can feel them become slick with blood. All he can do is hang on while Wade continues to abuse his hole. His thrusts grow erratic and harsh before finally slowing down. Wade’s head slumps down to Peter’s shoulder and he places feather light kisses along there that feel at odds with how Wade was just a second ago. 

Peter feels too high strung and restless for such a quiet moment. The only thing he can think about is flipping them over and riding Wade until his own release. 

“Don’t you dare,” Wade says in a knowing tone. 

“I didn’t peg you as a selfish lover.”

“So we _are_ lovers now?” 

Peter can feel Wade’s smile against his shoulder. “We definitely won’t be if I don’t get the chance to come.”

“You’ll get the chance to come when I say so and _not_ before.” He pulls out of Peter, a trail of lube a semen oozing out when he does.

Peter growls and in an act of defiance he flips them over so he’s straddling Wade’s waist. “I think I’d like to come right _now_ , thanks.”

Wade jolts up into a sitting position, making Peter slide down into his lap. He grabs the hair at the back of Peter’s head and _yanks_ . “That doesn’t sound like a thing a good little slut would say. I thought you wanted me to fill you up with my seed? I thought you wanted to get fucked so long you’d feel like your ass would never be the same again? All sloppy and dripping come. Don’t you want to be my _good little slut_?”

A small whimper passes Peter’s lips. He wants all that more than he’s ever wanted anything. The arousal he feels at being used and turned into nothing but a plaything for Wade making him agreeable to whatever Wade wants.

Wade smiles in answer, smoothing his hand over the back of Peter’s hair. Wade proudly says, “That’s my good boy. Now here’s the rules, the moment you come I stop, but I can get you something to help out, alright? All you have to do is follow my lead and I’ll give you everything you’ve been too afraid to want.”

Peter just nods and climbs off Wade’s lap when prompted. He waits while Wade gets up and grabs something out of his dresser; a purple silicone ring. He jumps back up onto the bed, making Peter bounce. 

Wade slips the ring down Peter’s shaft while humming the turn to ‘Single Ladies’. He snaps the band once it’s in place, making Peter cry out and shove Wade away. Wade giggles as he lands on his back. 

“You’re such an asshole.”

“It’s just part of my charm.” Wade says as he blows Peter a kiss. 

Peter makes a snatching motion in the air for the kiss and drops it over the side of the bed. “What charm?”

Wade grabs at his heart and gasps. “I have charm!”

“You’re about to get a restraining order.”

“You know I don’t pay attention to those, now roll over and show me that ass.”

When Peter doesn’t move fast enough, Wade grabs at Peter’s waist and flips him over. He tangles his fingers into Peter’s hair and tugs as he pushes back inside Peter. He’s no gentler this time, making Peter cry out again and again.

He doesn’t stop on the second time. He moves Peter around however he wants, not stopping even when they fall off the bed. He doesn’t stop when Peter says he needs something to drink, he just carries Peter to the kitchen and fucks him over the counter. 

He puts bruises on Peter’s hips, on his thighs and up along his neck. Wade is true to his word and comes in Peter’s ass so much that it leaks down his thighs. The only break Peter has is the few times Wade fucks between his thighs. It gets to the point where the only thing Peter can think about is the pleasure he is being denied. He begs Wade for it with every breath. He pleads and promises to do anything Wade wants if he can just orgasm. 

Yet Wade still won’t let him. He keeps telling Peter to just hold out a little longer. Tears streak Peter’s face by the end, he doesn't even know how long it’s been anymore but it feels like an eternity.

Peter doesn’t remember passing out but when he wakes up it’s to the sun streaming in through the window bright enough to blind him. There is a blanket covering him, and he has no idea where it came from. The first thought he has is that he feels too empty but still pent up. He’s weirdly clean and can only assume Wade must have cleaned him up. Unable to help himself he wraps a hand around his cock only to find something covering it.

Lifting the blankets up so that he can inspect himself, he sees a glint of metal. There are bars wrapped around his dick. Even though Peter has never seen one before he can only assume it is a cock cage. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that Wade had the gall to do such a thing and yet he is still shocked to his core. 

There is a little lock keeping the whole thing in place. It would be easy enough to break and take the whole thing off but something stops him. The way Wade praised him all night for keeping the cock ring on repeats in his head, and he finds he wants to keep being good.

He wants Wade to reward him. To finally feel Wade wrap his hand around Peter’s cock and slowly jerk—

Peter rolls over to bury his face in a pillow and groans. The feeling of the bars pressing into his cock sends shivers up his spine and he can’t help but rut down against the bed briefly. The feeling of how floaty he felt last night comes back to him and he remembers the way he begged and moaned for Wade like some common whore. He starts to swell in the cage, but there isn’t much room and the sides press into him. He punches the pillow and then rolls out of the bed. He can’t believe the way he acted last night. 

He can’t believe how he’s acting now. He doesn’t even recognize himself.

His clothes aren’t anywhere to be seen but one of Wade’s shirts is laid out in their place. Peter runs his fingers along the pattern of the fabric, horrified at the garishness of it. Could Wade really expect Peter to wear a Hawian shirt? It must be a joke, the tacky pineapple print screams it. Peter weighs the option of digging through Wade’s dresser for something else to wear, _anything_ would be better. But Wade went through the trouble of picking out this shirt and Peter doesn’t want to disappoint. 

He tugs the shirt on and does up the buttons. It’s not even a problem that Wade didn’t leave out any pants with how large it is on Peter, the hem coming down to almost mid thigh. He feels ridiculous, like he’s playing dress up. 

He considers going naked instead but the smell of coffee catches his attention and he’s out the door before he can think better of it. The carpet is soft under his feet, and he appreciates the fact that Wade vacuumed. He catches Wade mid-shuffle, humming along to the radio while flipping pancakes on the stove. He’s wearing only a pair of sweatpants, the same pair as last night. He flashes Peter a smile that could melt ice and points over to the coffee on the counter.

Next to the coffee is a cute little ceramic sugar bowl with a floral pattern that would be right at home in Aunt May’s kitchen. Peter picks it up, his eyebrow cocked in question. 

“Borrowed from the neighbour, though I think she thought I was asking for a _different_ kind of sugar.” 

Jealousy flares up inside Peter at the thought of Wade bending some tart over and having his way with her. He knows he shouldn’t care, that Wade is only telling a joke. Yet the idea that Wade would be willing to give out _sugar_ to anyone who asks bothers him. He knows it shouldn’t, after all he was only doing this one night to prove to Wade that he wasn’t as good as he thought he was (even though he begrudgingly thinks he’s better than promised). Wade’s flighty, erratic, a force that not even Peter could ever hope to contain. 

He’s a little too forceful grabbing a mug and pouring his coffee, making it splash across the counter in a mess. Wade’s already tearing off some paper towel and hands it over to Peter without a word, just with a small smile. Feeling embarrassed, he cleans the mess up and refuses to look at Wade further, concentrating on the counter instead. 

The soft brush of Wade’s lips against his cheek makes Peter shudder in pleasure. He leans back into Wade who comes in behind him and wraps his arms around Peter’s middle, crowding him against the kitchen counter. He feels like his body has betrayed him, like Wade was able to tame it to his will and it isn’t even his own anymore. 

“Yours is the only sugar I want.” Wade says with a nip to Peter’s neck. He makes his erection known by pressing it into the cleft of Peter’s ass. 

Peter feels far too sore to even consider going again, still he can’t help but arch his back and press his ass into Wade. There is a hitch in his breath when Wade pushes the back of Peter’s shirt up over his butt. “Are you finally going to let me come?”

Wade takes a step back from Peter and pulls his shirt back down, giving his butt a little pat once he does. “Don’t want the pancakes to burn.”

Peter groans and lets his head fall forward to hit the cupboards in front of him. He grabs his coffee and takes it over to the couch to sit down. He tries to do his best to distract himself from the bars digging into his attempt to get erect, but it’s difficult when there isn’t a single spot in Wade’s whole apartment that doesn’t make him think of sex. 

Halfway through his coffee Wade finally brings him a plate of pancakes to eat. It was definitely worth the wait, big round fluffy pancakes stacked high with butter melting on top. Wade passes over the plate and offers to squeeze syrup over them. 

“I’m actually not a fan, got any peanut butter?”

Wade slowly lowers to bottle to his side. “But you’re supposed to put syrup on pancakes.”

“So that’s a no?”

Wade turns back to the kitchen, muttering to himself as he does. He doesn’t sound pleased. “I might have a jar from the time I needed to get past some security dog.”

“I’m fine with just the butter.”

Wade mutters something more to himself as he grabs a jar of peanut butter out of a cabinet and brings it over to Peter. He tosses the jar onto the couch next to Peter before returning to the kitchen. Peter smears a great big glob across each of his pancakes before slicing into them and finally taking a bite. He wasn’t expecting much but he would be lying if he said they weren’t the best pancakes he’s ever had. Somehow Wade is always able to surprise him. 

Wade’s busy cooking up more pancakes for himself, his back facing Peter so it makes it easier for Peter to say what he needs to say. “What would you do if I said I wasn’t convinced.”

“Convinced about what?” Wade asks as he flips another pancake onto his plate. 

Peter stares down at his plate, pushing the last half of his pancake around. “About last night. You told me I wouldn’t want anyone else after you’d had your way with me and well, I’m not convinced.”

The bowl of pancake batter falls to the ground in a clatter making Peter jump. It splatters across the floor and the bottom cupboards. Wade coldly asks, “Not convinced?” 

Peter gulps and places his plate on the couch next to himself. Fleeing the place without any pants on isn’t optimal but he readies himself to do it anyways. “You won’t even let me get off.”

“I think—” Wade doesn’t turn around, he just stares at the top of the stove speaking in a measured tone. “You have two choices. You can go home and jerk off into a sock while watching the same shitty porn you always do. Get yourself _another_ shitty girlfriend, pretend what you want is nothing more than to fuck her in the same position you always do before falling asleep.

Or, you could be a good boy. You can go home with that cage still tight around your cock. You won’t come until _I_ want you to. You think last night was hard to get through? That was _nothing_. I’ll take you to the point where you’ll be so geared up for release that the softest of touches will drive you crazy. When you do finally get to come it’s going to be the greatest thing you’ve ever felt. You’ll be begging me to not let you come. You’re going to look forward to it. Best of all you’ll never be bored in my bed, you’ll never have to lie to yourself. You can be honest and let me hold you down so you can’t move and just let yourself be fucking used by me.

“It’s your choice.”

Not knowing what to say, Peter just stares down at his lap. He’s still partly hard from when Wade pinned him against the counter and he wants to scream with how badly he wants to come. He’s breathing heavily from just the little bit of what Wade said but he doesn’t know if he wants what Wade is promising. If he continues down this path he knows Wade is going to do unspeakable things to him. 

That he is going to _do_ unspeakable things. He doesn’t feel like he has control over his own body. 

The hold Wade has over him already is frightening. Peter can’t help but feel small as he asks, “Do I have to decide right now?”

“I’ll know your answer if you show up here tonight.”

Wade doesn’t bring his plate into the living room to eat, he just stands in the kitchen rolling his pancakes up so he doesn’t have to use a fork to eat them. He dips them into a pool of syrup on his plate before taking a bite. It’s a miracle he doesn’t bite off his own tongue with the way he is eating, his teeth gnashing away angrily. 

Guilt washes over Peter at the sight and he wonders if he really means that much to Wade. What’s so special about himself that Wade would go through all this trouble? Peter’s not going to deny that it wasn’t enjoyable even if he wants to scream with how pent up he feels. 

Wade finishes eating first as Peter puts off finishing the last few bites on his plate. In a blink of his eyes Wade is gone down the hallway leaving Peter alone. He feels terribly cold on the couch by himself. 

Wade returns with Peter’s clothes in hand, he tosses them onto the floor at Peter’s feet with a grunt. He snatches the plate out of Peter’s hand and takes it to the kitchen, refusing to look at Peter the entire time. It takes a few minutes for Peter to find the will to put on his clothes, not even bothering to get up and instead just slithering off the couch onto the floor. He unbuttons the shirt he has on and takes it off. 

He clears his throat hoping to direct Wade’s attention to the fact that he’s naked, but Wade refuses to look over at him. With a sigh, Peter pulls on his pants. He takes a second to contemplate taking off the cock cage before deciding to keep it on and zipping his jeans up. Once he has the rest of his clothes on he walks over to the kitchen and tugs on the band of Wade’s sweatpants to get his attention. 

Since he was bitten by the spider there hasn’t been a lot that has made Peter feel timid, but right now as he stands trying to get Wade’s attention it takes all the courage he has to speak. “I didn’t recognize myself last night. I’m scared of this. Will we be okay if I decide not to come?”

Wade’s posture softens and he finally turns to look down at Peter. “Our true selves are always a little frightening. The belief that you will come back to me is the only thing stopping me from tying you up.” 

“I don’t think there is a rope strong enough to hold me anyways.”

Wade reaches out to cup the side of Peter’s face, rubbing his thumb along Peter’s cheek. “I would never use them, but there are ways. You’ll come back to me though, because you’re mine.”

From anyone else Peter would feel concern over such a declaration, but from Wade it just feels like facts. Of course Wade would know ways to subdue someone like Spider-Man, and of course he would never use them on Peter. “I trust you Wade.”

The kiss is gentle, just a soft press of the lips as Wade tugs Peter into the warmth of his chest. Peter wants to stay in his embrace where he feels safe and protected. 

He pushes away, his heart rate spiking. 

Just that little kiss makes him want to scream for more. All he can think about is Wade pressing into him again. He bites his lip to keep from asking for just that. He grabs his sneakers and rushes out the door, not stopping to put them on until he’s at the bottom of the stairs. 

He sits on the bottom step for far to long, banging the side of his head against the wall. The temptation to let loose and scream is high and dignity be damned but he wants to shove his hand down his pants to jerk off right there in the stairwell. He would have to break the cage off to do that and he can’t. 

He just _can’t_. 

It’s a miracle that he manages to find the will to stand back up and leave the building. He’s not even sure how he manages to get home. He misses the stop where he needs to transfer twice. The first thing he does when he gets home is he jumps in the shower, keeping it ice cold. 

He’s shivering when he gets out, his skin having gone even paler under the water. When he looks in the mirror, he visibly flinches at what he sees. Every mark, every bruise, stands out sharply against his pale skin. He looks like he was mauled by a bear. Peter presses his fingers into the bite mark on his shoulder, marveling over how he can still make out the pattern of Wade’s teeth. It will only take a day for it to heal. 

The sting of the pain is a reminder of every thrust Wade made into his body. A reminder of each kiss that came after. Peter touches at his lips, feeling the ghost of Wade on them. He can still feel the way Wade’s hands moved over him, gripped at his flesh and opened him up. 

He wonders if it’s something he will ever forget or if this is just a part of him now. There isn’t any taking back last night. 

Peter’s not even sure he would if he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that! Comments fuel my soul. I have no idea when the next update will be, I live a hectic life.


	2. PARKER LUCK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed not to make it as long as the first chapter but not by much. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> A big thanks to [shadows_at_midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadows_at_midnight/pseuds/shadows_at_midnight) for being an awesome beta, and [Siyuris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyuris/pseuds/Siyuris) for cheering me on.

It’s tough to decide on what to wear, since most of the pants he owns are just a tad on the tight side. He doesn’t particularly want people to be able to tell what he has wrapped around his dick, even if it is mostly his imagination that it’s visible through the material. He picks out a pair that he hasn’t worn in what feels like forever which are just baggy enough that they don’t cling to anything. 

It feels like a poor choice to consider going to classes while wearing a cock cage of all things, but he can’t bring himself to miss _another_ day of school. He’s already on thin ice with his teachers as it is. If it wasn’t for his high grades he would definitely have been kicked out of the program by now.

He presses the pads of his fingers into his temples in an attempt to keep himself from getting a stress headache. Exactly what is he getting himself into with Wade Wilson of all people? 

It takes him an extra cup of coffee and another in his travel mug for the trip to move himself out the door. He thinks he may have gotten three hours of sleep, _tops_. He’s used to running on hardly any sleep but even he thinks this is pushing it.

Riding the subway is never enjoyable, but it’s never been as horrid as today. It feels like everyone has their eyes on Peter, like they _know_ what sort of sexual deviance he got up to last night. That they know what he has between his legs. What sort of person wears sex gear out of the house? 

“Hey Parker!” 

Peter’s face goes pale as he looks up to see his classmate getting onto the train. This must be a nightmare. He does his best to try and think of his name, they worked on a project together, it shouldn’t be this hard. 

An awkward laugh bubbles up out of him as he says, “Heeeey, Jacob. Fancy seeing you here.” The train is packed full enough that their shoulders bump into each other with how close they are forced to stand. Peter tries to angle his hips away, not wanting to expose his predicament .

Jacob furrows his brow. “Yeah, it’s not like we’re going to the same class or anything.”

“Right,” Peter forces out more laughter in an attempt to cover how uncomfortable he is making the situation. “Biology majors, that’s us. Taking the same classes.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” Jacob looks at him with concern. 

Peter has always been terrible at playing it cool, he has no idea on how he is supposed to make it through the whole day like this. He feels like a complete mess standing next to Jacob, who seems to be wearing clean clothes and who has actually bothered to brush his hair. Peter’s pretty sure the yellow stain on his own jacket is mustard from a hotdog two weeks ago.

“Feeling just peachy, might have had too much caffeine trying to balance staying up all night. You know how it is.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Well, I’m just going to listen over some notes I recorded.” Jacob reaches into his pocket to pull out a pair of earbuds. He gives a small half smile before turning away and putting them in. 

Peter internally screams at himself for being so weird. This is why he has no friends, though he thinks he can blame this one on Wade. 

There is no way he is going to be able to make it through a whole day trying to pretend he’s still a normal person. Pretend that he isn’t thinking about how all he wants to do is return to Wade’s apartment. How he wants to be pinned down, fingers bruising his flesh as Wade opens him up. 

He wants to be made to _cry_. That can’t be normal.

For the rest of the trip he can’t even bring himself to look over in the direction of Jacob, certain that his face has gone a bright, telling red. They only exchange a quick glance at each other when they reach their stop but Peter makes sure to walk at a pace that guarantees they won’t be walking beside each other on the way to campus.

It’s just as Peter is thinking that his day couldn’t get any worse that he spots a flash of long red hair outside his class building that could only belong to Mary Jane. The sight makes him stop dead in his tracks and throw himself behind the nearest garbage can to hide. Taking a quick peak just to make sure it’s definitely her, he notices her long black coat with shiny gold buttons. It was a one of a kind that she got from one of her modeling gigs. 

Peter sighs and leans his head back against the filthy side of the garbage can just in time for Jacob to walk past him and give him an odd look. Perfect. He gives a small wave as if it’s an everyday thing for him to hang out on the ground by a trash can.

Formulating a plan, Peter calculates an alternative route into the building. If he can make it to the row of trees to his left he can mostly hide behind them and circle around to the side of the building. The bathroom window on the second floor is usually unlocked because people like to hide in there and smoke. 

He can make this work. Confronting exes can be for another day.

Racing to the trees is easy enough, he keeps low to the ground and tries to keep behind other people. He stops behind the first tree and peaks out just to make sure he hasn’t attracted MJ’s attention. 

She’s still looking the other way, _good_. Though there is one girl giving Peter a look of bewilderment. Peter sticks his tongue out at her before moving on. She must be a freshman if this weirds her out. 

Working his way down to the building behind the trees, Peter does his best to remain concealed. It’s not a perfect cover, but it’s something. 

Now comes the tricky part, climbing the side of the building. He knows he really shouldn’t be tempting fate by using his spider powers, but desperate times and all that. 

He starts by climbing the tree closest to the building, because at least that’s a normal thing people do. Only once he reaches the top of the branches does he jump to the side of the building and climb it. It’s a short distance to the bathroom window and just like always, Peter finds it already partly open. He gracefully slips inside and lands on the floor softly.

And right next to a couple of wide-eyed grads smoking. Everyone freezes and just stares at each other. Peter is the first to move, straightening up and brushing a stray leaf off his shoulder.

“Rock climbing is easier than it looks, but I won’t tell if you won’t,” Peter says with a wink before rushing past them and out the door. He really does hope they won’t tell anyone but based on the way their smokes smelled he doubts anyone would believe them even if they did.

He slips into the classroom just as class is about to start. Unfortunately the only seats left are the ones at the front of the room and he’s forced to walk down the steps past the entire class. No sneaking in for him. He gives a sheepish smile to the professor as he slips into his seat, the plastic creaking as he settles in and places his bag on the floor. 

The professor goes right into the lecture, uncaring if everyone is ready or not. It’s a scramble for Peter to get out his laptop, hoping against all odds that today it doesn’t take forever to boot up. He makes a mental list of what he needs to write down once it gets going, trying to make sure he doesn’t forget anything. It’s times like these that he wishes he bothered to keep a notebook around so in emergencies he could just write down things the old fashioned way. 

It just never seemed like a good option with how long his notes tend to get. That and notebooks tend to cost money he doesn’t have. Finally the screen comes to life and he is able to pull up a word document and add to the sound of keys clacking in the room. 

It takes more effort than usual to get into note taking mode, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. His thoughts keep drifting back to Wade on their own volition. It’s too calm in the room. He’s too still. If only he could get up and run around while listening to the lecture. 

If only Wade hadn’t shown him what it was like to feel such things. 

Gritting his teeth, he drags his brain kicking and screaming to focus on only the words being spoken by his professor. He gets so focused on trying to catch up on his notes that he doesn’t notice the extra clacking coming from a pair of heels until they’re almost right on top of him. He turns his head just in time to look up and see MJ stop in front of his desk.

He feels his soul leave his body.

There isn’t a single sound being produced in the entire room, even the professor is stunned enough to have stopped his lecture. She looks immaculate, like she just stepped off the runway from hell, even under the flickering fluorescent lights in the room. All eyes are focused on MJ, an effect she possesses wherever she goes and which Peter is all too aware of. It’s why she makes such a good actress, and one of the reasons Peter hated going anywhere with her. Hard to feel like a couple when no one even notices half of it exists. 

The professor clears his throat, his voice breaking the silence. “Excuse me but I was in the middle of–”

“ _Peter Benjamin Parker_ ,” MJ cuts in, her eyes as fiery as her hair. “I have been calling you non-stop all _morning_.”

Wanting nothing more than to disappear, Peter slides down further in his seat. If it wasn’t such a sign of weakness he would hide right under the desk or run out of the room. He has no idea why MJ could be in his classroom but there isn’t any reason that could be good.

He reaches down into his bag for his phone to corroborate her story, only to find it completely dead. Usually he plugs it in as soon as he gets home for the night but he wasn’t thinking clearly last night. He holds the phone out for MJ to see.

MJ’s shoulders sag, and for an instance she looks incredibly tired. “Peter, May is in the hospital. She had a heart attack.”

Peter has fallen fifty stories, watched buildings being destroyed, and defused actual bombs. He’s never been afraid quite like this. He doesn’t ask any questions, he just closes his laptop and shoves everything inside his bag. MJ doesn’t wait to be told, she just leads Peter out of the classroom, her heels clicking against the linoleum with every step. 

It doesn’t even bother Peter that every pair of eyes are trained on them as they exit the room. 

Nothing else but May matters at the moment.

“I’m getting us a cab, it’ll be quicker.” MJ gently touches the back of his arm, her fingers lingering. It’s the same way she always comforts him, and for a moment it drags Peter back in time to when they were happy. 

But they aren’t those people anymore, and her hand disappears. 

They make their way over to the street where there is already a cab waiting for them. Peter doesn’t know how MJ managed that so fast. They slide into the back, each pressed against the opposite door and leaving a wide breadth between them. 

The taxi turns into traffic and for a short distance Peter just focuses on the sound of the engine. He picks at a loose thread in the upholstery, wondering who has to pay to get that patched up.

His Aunt May is the last piece of family he has left. He can’t lose her, he just _can’t_. Before he can stop himself a sob escapes his throat. 

The distance between the two of them closes as MJ reaches out and takes his hand in her own and squeezes. She tries to reassure him by saying, “The doctor says she’s going to be alright, that it could have been a lot worse.”

“Is she going to need surgery?”

“It doesn’t look like it, they’re just going to have to keep her for a few days to monitor her. She’s a tough one, she isn’t going anywhere soon.”

“No one ever means to leave.” Peter pulls his hand back and folds it into his lap. He gazes out the window, watching the people on the street go past. He should have been there for May, should have had his phone charged. “When did it happen?”

“Early this morning, it’s lucky that she was having coffee with Mrs. Biederman and she was able to call an ambulance right away.”

Peter nods his head in agreement. He does his best not to think about what could have happened if she was alone. Those thoughts will take him into a dark place, instead he tries to focus on the fact that she made it to the hospital. She is going to be fine.

She _has_ to be fine.

Needing not to feel so alone, Peter reaches out for the only thing available to him, and takes MJ’s hand back. She doesn’t hesitate to offer it up and they spend the rest of the trip holding on tightly to each other like they used to. 

They come to a stop in front of the main doors to the hospital, MJ pays the driver, which is good considering Peter has zero funds. As soon as he enters through the doors he feels lost, he’s never liked hospitals. They’re too busy and filled with too much death.

Not knowing what else to do, Peter follows along closely after MJ, who walks with the assurance of someone who knows where she is going. They take the elevator up three floors and head towards the coronary care unit. The white walls of the hospital fell narrow and never ending. The kitschy generic art does nothing to give Peter a sense of direction or a landmark so he can find his way back out. It all feels the same. 

Against all odds though, MJ is able to find the correct room number. She barely pauses before heading inside and pulling back the curtain to reveal May’s sleeping form. Peter pushes past MJ to get to May's side, he wants to reach out and take her hand in his own but doesn’t want to agitate any of the wires or iv lines.

She looks so fragile, her skin pale and waxy. Her breathing is so quiet, barely there. The monitors situated around her bed give a constant update on her condition, reassuring Peter that she still lives. Numbers and symbols flash all over the place, speaking in a language that Peter is not party to. 

He wants to shake her awake, scream and holler until he knows she is completely alright. Instead he quietly settles into the chair beside her bed. He watches the gentle lift and fall of her chest and lets the sight comfort him. The sound of a chair being dragged over doesn’t even make him look away. Perhaps it would have been the gentlemanly thing to offer his chair up and get his own. 

But he doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t even understand why MJ is sticking around. Sure, her mother is friends with May but it’s not like MJ was. They hardly spent any time together, only when Peter brought her around for dinner. 

He understands though when MJ reaches out for his hand again. He doesn’t fight it, just squeezes back. It hasn’t even been a week since they broke up, he doesn’t understand what she is doing. 

“She’s going to be alright, Tiger.” 

“But what if she isn’t, what if this is it?” Peter fretts, squeezing her hand harder than he should. 

MJ flinches and pulls her hand back, rubbing at the side of it. “When have you ever known May to give up on anything? You think she’s going to let this stop her?”

Peter laughs, wiping away the tears that are threatening to fall. “That’s true, she probably showed up at the pearly gates and gave them a stern talking to that it’s not her time.”

“I wouldn’t want to be at the end of her wrath. She’d smack their knuckles with that wooden spoon of hers.”

Peter rubs at his knuckles, the memory of the sting from trying to snatch an extra cookie off the counter making him fondly smile. He really hasn’t been spending enough time with May lately. Always too busy with school and being Spider-Man. 

He vows right then and there to change that. 

Eventually a Doctor shows up to check on May, she gives Peter an update on May’s condition and that she is doing surprisingly well for her age. It gives Peter a bit of hope. The sound of everyone talking stirs May, her eyes fluttering open to take in the room. 

“Ben? Is that you?” May mumbles.

Peter rushes to her side, crouching down so he is level with her face. “Hey, Aunt May it’s me, _Peter_. I came as soon as I heard.”

“Oh, Peter, of course. I didn’t mean to create such a fuss for you.”

“ _May_ , you had a heart attack.”

“And the doctor says I’m going to be _fine_ , really Peter.” Her smile is so tender as she reaches out and cups the side of Peter’s face. “I would never leave you.”

He presses back into her hand, letting himself feel the comfort of her touch. “Of course you won’t, I still can’t fold fitted sheets. I’m going to need your help even when I’m sixty.”

“Let’s be honest, Peter. You’re never going to get the hang of it.”

Peter’s laugh is mixed with a sob. It takes the doctor a second to gather their attention before going over the rest of May’s charts. They’re going to have to keep her for a few days to monitor her condition, make sure her heart is going to keep beating away. May is going to need lots of rest when she gets out, no strenuous activities under any circumstance. 

Peter nods along, already deciding that he will have to go stay with her for some time to make that happens. He just knows if he leaves her alone she’ll try and renovate the bathroom. That house can’t handle another one of her attempts at renovating.

The doctor leaves the room, leaving just the three of them alone. MJ shifts awkwardly, not looking as comfortable being the third wheel.

“I guess I should leave you two, it was nice seeing you, May. Hope you can get out of here soon.” She waves, turns, and exits the room, shutting the door softly behind her after glancing one last time back over her shoulder.

“Such a sweet girl, it’s such a shame you two are having a bit of a tiff.”

“It’s not a _tiff_ , we broke up.”

“A girl like that only comes around once, Peter.”

Peter groans in frustration and moves back to the chair to sit down. “ _May_ . That bridge is doused in kerosene, had a match thrown at it, and the burned wreckage bulldozed. _Trust me_ , we’re done.”

Having access to the secret girl language, May smiles smugly back. “Then why did she stay?”

“You are being incredibly insufferable for someone who’s gown doesn’t have a backside right now.”

“Won’t stop me from running laps around you, I may be old but that just means I’m wiser than you. Now go fetch me something to drink, and if you can find something that looks tolerable to eat in this awful place I wouldn’t mind having a bite.”

“Not even a please?”

“You should be thanking me for the chance to be useful.” May turns up her nose with mock seriousness that only lasts for a second before her face breaks out into a grin that threatens to overtake her whole face with how large it is. It’s infectious and Peter can’t help but mirror it.

He gets up out of his chair and walks over to plant a soft kiss on May’s forehead like she used to do when he was little. “I’ll be back soon.”

It’s easy enough to find a cup of water, all he has to do is ask one of the nurses and they offer to bring his Aunt one. They give him directions to the cafeteria but even with those it’s a great challenge for him to find his way. The signs that are posted mean nothing to him, just listing off numbers or wards he is unfamiliar with. He has to ask for directions three more times, and it seems that they always lead him down yet another hallway that looks identical to the last.

He fears he might die in there, though he supposes if he starts to waste away at least he should get immediate medical treatment. How fortunate for him, medical bills for the whole family. He hates to think what this place is charging Aunt May to stay, this could very well mean she loses the house.

That place holds so many memories of Ben for the both of them. He supposes if it comes to it he can help pay the mortgage, eating is overrated. 

When he finally manages to find the entrance to the cafeteria, the fluorescent lights beckoning him in with the promise of food, he nearly weeps with joy. He tries to think of things May would like to eat, he ends up grabbing her a few treats that she can keep stashed in her room. A muffin, pastry, and sandwich all seem like good choices. He doesn’t really trust anything that would have been cooked. The staff doesn’t look the most competent. He grabs an extra sandwich for himself at the last second knowing May would chastise him for not eating as well. 

With his bounty placed securely in a bag, Peter heads back towards her room. He’s glad he memorized her room number so he can ask how to find it when he gets lost again. He hopes he never has to come back to this dreadful maze of a place. 

He’s not sure how long he was gone, but when he gets back to May’s room she has her hospital bed propped up so she can eat the dinner the nurses brought her. She’s already halfway done, and Peter feels bad that he couldn’t spare her from eating it.

“Peter! I was just about to send a search party out for you.”

“Not sure it would have helped if you did, I got turned around five times trying to navigate this place. Sorry I didn’t make it back in time.”

“That’s alright, dear. Why don’t you sit, you can tell me how your classes are going and you can give me something that is actually edible.” She pokes at the grey looking mashed potatoes on her plate one last time before pushing the plate away. She only managed a small bite from the unseasoned piece of chicken they have given her. It looks anything but appetizing and it’s amazing she ate as much as she did.

“Glad I’m not the one that has to eat that.” Peter takes the sandwiches out and passes one to May. He unwraps his and takes a large bite. “I should e-mail my professors so they know why I won’t be in the rest of the week. Maybe I can get an extension on some projects.”

“You don’t need to take the week off for me, and don’t talk while you chew. Who raised you?”

“You only have yourself to blame for my manners,” Peter cackles around another mouthful. 

The fond smile that May gives Peter, the same one she always gives him when he does something absurd, is something he will never not love. It’s the reason he will always be there for her. 

He tells her about all of his classes and what his professors are like. He talks about the research he is helping with, what he would like to research if given the chance, and what’s got him most interested right now. He continues to talk even as May’s eyes grow heavy and she promises she’s still listening. He only stops when her breathing grows softer and he’s certain she’s asleep, then he just watches the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He wonders if she watched over him like this when he was little and sick. 

He used to fall ill so often, but can hardly remember what that feels like anymore. He hasn’t been sick since the spider bit him.

He promises himself that he’s just going to close his eyes for a moment, but the lack of sleep catches up to him and he finds himself dozing. 

In his dreams there are ropes tied to him. They wrap around his wrists and ankles, twist up along his arms and around his stomach. They circle around his neck. 

There are so many, each one leading off into the darkness.

He loses track trying to count them all. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to pull them back towards himself, as soon as he lets go of one, someone is tugging on the others. They pull at him, trying to make him follow. 

Nothing he does matters. It’s only a matter of time before they tear him apart. A growl from behind has him turning his head. A chill goes up his spine.

Wade, down on all fours like a wild animal. There is a crazed look in his eye. His teeth snap and tear through the ropes. He doesn’t stop until there is nothing but a frayed pile of rope at Peter’s feet. Then he turns to Peter, his jaw open wide so Peter can see the rows of shark like teeth dripping with blood. In one bite, he consumes Peter whole.

Startled awake, Peter tumbles out of the chair onto the floor with a thump. His skin feels clammy, and his breathing uneven. The lights are turned down low making it hard for him to place where he is. 

“Are you alright, Peter?” May utters sleepily, her eyes cracking open to gaze down at him.

“Just fine, I only slipped out of the chair. What time is it and how haven’t I been kicked out yet?” Peter pulls himself up from the floor using the edge of the chair, he rubs at his ass hoping to get some feeling back in it.

“You looked like you could use the sleep so I talked the nurses into letting you stay.”

“Already sweet-talking the nurses into giving you favors, huh?”

May gives a weak smile. “You know me.”

“Go back to sleep, May. I’ll come visit you tomorrow.” Peter walks over and presses a kiss to her cheek as he tucks her blanket back around her. 

“I’m sure you could stay the rest of the night.”

“And let you keep smelling me like this? No way.”

“I love you, be careful getting home.” May yawns wide, her eyes closing involuntarily. It only takes seconds for her to drift off back to sleep. 

Grabbing his backpack, Peter heads out and does his best to close the door quietly behind him. His mind races as he tries to find his way out of the hospital. 

He stood Wade up. 

An awful twisting feeling settles in his gut. Even though he had thought of not going, actually doing that to Wade is another thing. Wade must be so _disappointed_ , and Peter finds he really hates that he did that. 

Somehow he makes it outside, though he’s not sure how he got there. He has to take a moment to calm himself down, his breath coming out in little visible puffs in the cool night air. 

It's so late. 

He wonders how long Wade waited for him or if he is still. If Peter rushes he can get there in just under an hour. 

Not taking a second to reconsider, Peter heads off to the nearest train station at a sprint. His mind keeps replaying an image of Wade's annoyance, his rage, and disappointment that Peter couldn't be good.

Peter makes it onto a train, unsure if he paid or is even on the right one. He sinks into a seat and folds over on himself, head practically buried between his knees. He tugs at his hair, and wants to scream. It’s fortunate there isn’t anyone else on it to witness his breakdown.

Why is this affecting him so much? It's _Wade_ of all people.

It's a miracle that Peter manages to get off at the right stop. The whole world feels submerged, like he's wading his way through a swamp. Regardless, he pushes on feeling a sense of determination like no other.

He has to make this right.

Hammering the buzzer for the intercom into Wade’s apartment gets him no response. Not that it stops him from trying again, the panic he feels making him frantic. 

He just needs to explain, Wade will understand. He will forgive Peter, he _has_ to. Using more force than he means, Peter pushes the button right into the mechanism. The whole thing shorts out. 

“You really know how to play it cool, Parker,” he mumbles to himself, sagging forward to rest his forehead against the building.

Still, he can’t make himself leave. He circles around the side of the building until he is right below Wade’s window. He climbs, hoping no one spots him. The window is locked, the curtains drawn. Which is especially weird since Wade doesn’t own curtains. He knocks at the window, hoping for a response. 

There is none. 

If Wade is home, he is being awfully quiet. Peter fears the worst, as it is his nature. What if Wade offed himself for a brief respite from a world where Peter was so foolish? 

Peter wrenches the window open, breaking the lock. He pushes back what turns out to be a sheet pinned to the wall with forks, and makes his way inside. 

The place is a _disaster_. The chairs are smashed into almost unrecognizable pieces. There are bullet holes and fist sized dents across the walls. The couch has knives sticking out of it and the table is cut clean in half. The remains of a dinner are squished and smeared across the ground. There are candles and the shards of actual plates, and what was probably a table cloth. 

Wade had made him dinner, a _nice romantic_ one. He didn’t even know Wade was capable of such romance. It’s typical parker luck that he would screw that up. Peter almost wonders why Wade didn’t set a bear trap up for him under the window. 

A quick look around the apartment reveals that Wade isn’t there. Peter only takes a quick glance into the bedroom, the sight of rose petals and candles everywhere almost unbearable to look upon. It’s like Wade tore a page out of Cosmo on how to have a romantic evening.

Peter can’t think of anywhere he might have gone and doesn’t even know where to begin looking, but he can’t leave things like this. Knowing Wade, he won’t be back anytime soon either. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and forces his brain to just _think_. There is one bar in particular that Wade likes to go to. One that is unlisted, Sissy Marge or something. He thinks he remembers where it is, or else he’s going to spend what is left of the night looking for it.

He takes one last look at the destruction before climbing back out the window and heading for the rooftop. He can go faster when he’s off the street and he sets off jumping from roof to roof.

It doesn’t take him long to get to where he’s going. At least he is almost certain that he has the right area, and he asks the few people still out at this time of night for directions. The only response he gets is laughter as they look him over. Just because he looks young for his age doesn’t mean he should get laughed at. 

Though he probably looks out of place, a fresh looking university student walking around with their backpack in a neighbourhood most cops avoid. Someone even offers him the advice of turning around while he still can.

None of it matters though because he manages to find the place without their help. It’s a good thing the building is so distinctive, sticking out like a sore thumb next to rest. The plack on the outside also is a great help. 

Sister Margaret's Home for Wayward Children, with ‘Hellhouse’ spray painted over that. 

Once he gets a look inside, Peter supposes they were right to have laughed at him. It’s obvious he doesn’t belong in such a place, the crowd inside being on the _rougher_ side. He might have just watched someone bet a live chicken in a game of poker. Not one, but three bottles have fallen and broken on the floor since he’s stepped through the door. The last one seems to have sparked a brawl between two of the patrons, which doesn’t seem to phase anyone around them. 

Peter takes a cautionary step further inside, his sneakers sticking to the floor. He tries not to think about what it could be. 

The only upside is that no one really seems to be paying him any attention. Which gives him the perfect chance to slip through the crowd and search for Wade. He finds him at the bar, teetering on the edge of his stool as he shouts at the bartender. He's wearing the full red and black of his Deadpool suit, which feels like a bad omen.

Just the view of Wade's back and the width of his shoulders has Peter aching. His cock tries uselessly to get hard in the confines of its cage. 

“ _—_ _cocksucker_! You hand it over, Weasel! I’m paying good money!” Wade chucks his bottle at the bartenders head, who ducks down to avoid it like it’s an everyday thing. Which Peter thinks it probably is. 

The bartender pokes his head up to glare back at Wade. “You never pay! You better believe I’m keeping track of what you owe, too.”

Wade looks seconds away from jumping over the counter to strangle the poor wiry looking fellow, which Peter supposes is his cue to step in. He hates to think he’s the reason Wade is in such a foul mode and might kill the guy. 

Feeling like he's about to poke a dragon, Peter touches Wade's elbow to get his attention and clears his throat. Wade whips around brandishing a large kitchen knife off the bar, lime juice dripping from it.

"I'm in the middle of _—_ _what are you doing here?"_ Wade asks venomously, bringing the knife up to Peter's throat. 

Peter can't really blame him for his reaction. The people around them take notice of the situation and give a wide berth, going so far as to push their chairs to other tables. Not wasting any time, but mostly not wanting to get stabbed, Peter apologizes. "I'm _so_ sorry, Wade."

Wade gives a hollow laugh that rings in Peter's ears. " _Sorry?_ You made your choice, what is there to be _sorry_ for? Just leave, or are you wanting to rub it in my face that I thought I finally got my chance with you?"

The knife presses against Peter's skin, making him afraid to move so much as a muscle. "My aunt had a heart attack, I was at the hospital with her. _I swear._ Please, let me make this right."

The knife wavers before dropping to the floor with a clatter. The room takes a collective sigh of relief. Wade turns back to the bar and resettles into his seat. The bartender passes him another beer wordlessly. 

Knowing he's pushing his luck, Peter sits down on the stool next to him anyways, and he sets his backpack on the floor. “I’m so sorry I didn’t show up.”

Wade grunts and takes a sip of his beer. 

Peter continues on, “I fell asleep visiting her. I only woke up a couple hours ago.”

Silence.

Peter begins to sweat. “Please, _Wade_. I’m so sorry.”

A silent Wade is one of the scariest things Peter can imagine. Peter can handle Wade screaming insults, and tossing chairs at him. He’d even take Wade pulling a gun on him over this. 

“Wade, _please_ , tell me how I can make this right.”

He doesn't even get a glance, making Peter go numb with dread. He can’t let this be it. 

_He just can’t._

How does Wade expect him to live out the rest of his life knowing he will never know his touch again? That he will never be driven so mad with lust? 

“ _Wade_ ,” Peter pleads, his voice going squeaky with distress. He doesn’t want to make a scene but even the bartender is looking at him with pity now. Not willing to let this be the end of it, he grabs Wade’s hand. The act immediately sends Wade into assault mode, he goes to push at Peter’s chest but Peter slips off his stool. He ducks down under Wade’s arm and slides up along his side. He tightens his grip on Wade’s wrist and brings Wade’s hand down to his crotch just as Wade’s other hand reaches for his throat. He slams Peter back into the bar, making him arch around it. His feet dangle, the only thing keeping him up is the grip around his neck.

“I didn’t take it off,” Peter rasps out. “I was good, _promise_.”

Eyes widening, Wade feels around the cage still that still encompasses Peter’s cock. He loosens his hold on Peter’s neck but pushes himself between Peter’s legs to keep him in place. “So that _wasn’t_ just an excuse?”

Peter shakes his head. 

“And you tracked me down to this shit hole—” the bartender makes a sound of objection— “just to apologize to little old me?” There is a crazed look in Wade’s eye that reminds Peter just what he is capable of. 

His mouth hovers right over Peter’s with only the layer of Wade’s mask stopping them, and he aches for it. Every moment should be filled with Wade’s kiss. His hands slip down to squeeze Peter’s ass, the fingers so close to just slipping right into the middle. Peter rolls his hips back, trying to get Wade to just do _something_. The memory of what if felt like to have Wade opening him up and pushing inside haunts Peter. 

He craves it. 

Nothing real has even happened yet, and still he is unbelievably worked up. To keep from begging he bites into his tongue, but not even that stops the moan he makes from escaping. He can feel how hard Wade is, the heat of it pressed up against his thigh. He wants to beg to feel it, to have Wade fucking into him so hard it makes him cry. 

“I am not watching you squeeze the cream from your twinkie all over my bar, _Wade_.” The bartender chimes in.

The sound of water doesn’t register for Peter until he is being drenched with water. Both Wade and him jump away from the counter to try and get away from the bartender spraying them with the drink hose. 

“ _Weasel_ , you better be prepared to lose some fingers over that.” Wade growls out as he wipes the water from his mask. 

The impromptu shower does nothing to halt the lust coiling around in Peter's belly. He tugs on the sleeve of Wade's shirt and looks up at Wade through his lashes. 

He feels like he must look like a soaked rat, but when Wade sees him he inhales sharply.

"We're going to go freshen up in the bathroom," Wade declares loudly as he starts to push Peter towards the far corner of the room.

"I don't want you doing that in there either!" Weasel hollers, face going purple. "Wade! I don't want your spunk where I shit!"

Taking a quick glance around the room, Peter finds every pair of eyes in the bar is trained on him and Wade. He wants to be embarrassed but all he feels is needy. 

They push through the swinging door and the bathroom is no less charming than the rest of the place. Each of the walls is covered in the scribbles of what Peter would assume are children's if he thought they came in here. He recognizes a few drawings that he can only assume are Wade’s because who else would draw Deadpool everywhere?

There is one poor soul peeing at one of the urinals that Wade barks at until he runs out of the room not even stopping to do up his pants or wash his hands. Peter would be more concerned about it if Wade wasn’t already pawing at him to get his soaked shirt off. 

Peter wiggles to help move things along and lifts his hands over his head so it can be tugged off. Wade throws the offending garment to the floor, making a splat when it lands. Pulling off his mask gives Peter the opportunity to finally see the hungry look on Wade’s face. 

This must be how a lamb feels when confronted with a wolf. 

It briefly occurs to him that the door isn’t even locked but the thought flies out of his head as soon as Wade's lips are one his. Then he’s melting in Wade’s hold as he’s backed up into the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into the small of his back. He arches up around it. Wade is running his hands up along Peter’s sides, eventually moving up to take his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Peter groans pushing into the touch, he rises up on his toes trying to get closer. 

Always one to provide, Wade pinches harder. Peter gasps, and finds a string of pleas leaving his lips. "Wade, _please,_ Wade I need, just please. I can't wait, I need _you._ I can't, I'm so _empty._ "

He can't stop the words, he feels broken and desperate. Every touch feels like a brand against his skin. The cage is keeping him from getting hard but his body keeps trying anyways. He doesn't know how much more of this he can handle.

Bending his head, Wade tongues at one of Peter’s nipples. The roughness of it makes Peter squirm, and gasp. He pushes into the sensation, begging Wade for whatever he can get. Wade latches onto the second one, not stopping until it’s just as pert at the first. 

Peter hiccups out a sob when Wade finally pulls back.

Making a gentle shushing sound, Wade manhandles Peter into turning around. "Place your hands on the mirror for Daddy, sweet cheeks."

Peter shivers and does as he's told, spreading his fingers wide over the cold scratched up surface. He stares into his reflection, his flushed appearance shocking himself. He looks _wrecked_ , his lips red and swollen, his chest heaving and his eyes clouded with lust.

All because of Wade W. Wilson. 

He whimpers as Wade reaches around to undo his pants for him, he tugs them down past Peter's hip and down to his knees. There is a glint of metal in Wade's hand, then the sound of the lock on the cage clicking open. 

"I want you to really feel it, but you so much as lay a finger on yourself and I'll make you lick the floor." Wade threatens as he undoes it the rest of the way and let's it fall into the sink making a loud clunk. 

The blood finally being able to rush downward, Peter grows hard almost instantly. It takes all his self control to keep his hands on the mirror and not jerk off into the basin. He whimpers, but does as he's told.

"That's it," Wade coos with delight. The clink of Wade's belt being undone rings in Peter's ears, his knees shaking with anticipation. It doesn't even occur to him that they are going to need lube until Wade's fingers are rubbing some along his rim and pushing in.

Peter tries to spread his legs apart but can barely do so because of his pants. Peter asks, "Do you just always carry lube with you? Emergency supplies for getting your head stuck between some banisters?"

Wade laughs darkly, his voice a low grumble as he says, "I was planning on fucking the first piece of ass the came my way tonight."

Peter freezes, the glass under his fingertips cracking. "You were going to fuck someone else?"

Wade leans in close to whisper hoarsely in Peter's ears. "It's not nice to think of the person you want with someone else, is it?"

The cracks in the mirror spread across the entirety of it, breaking their reflection into multiples. "But you didn't?"

"No, I did _not._ " Wade hooks his fingers into Peter's prostate, thrusting into it with each pass.

Peter groans, his cock leaking into the sink. The thought that Wade almost did this with someone else makes him feel violent. No one else should ever get to have Wade like this. He wants Wade all to himself, so Peter promises, "I'm the only one you need."

"Ah, you better mean that." Wade scissors his fingers wide, forcing Peter to open up. 

The stretch stings, Wade forcing him open wide with harsh movements. The fingers disappear all too quickly, and Wade firmly takes hold of Peter’s waist and lifts him off the ground until his toes aren’t even touching anymore. Peter lets out a squeak at the action and quickly switches all of his weight to his hands. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” Wade urges as he lines up his cock and starts to push in. 

It feels like all the air is being pushed out of his lungs. The feeling of Wade forcing himself inside Peter as if he belongs there, and Peter can’t argue because he feels more right the moment that Wade bottoms out than he has all day. Wade pushes him off as he pulls out, pulling Peter back when he thrust forward. The sound of their skin smacking together echoes, and Peter can’t help but make little gasps and mewls with each one. 

There isn’t a doubt in his mind with the way he is being used that he belongs to Wade. He can’t even move in this position, he feels like he’s there just for Wade’s pleasure. It makes him feel so _used_ , which only furthers his arousal. He’s practically sobbing, feeling so overstimulated as he chants back, “I’m yours. I’m _yours_ , Wade.”

Wade goes feral over the admission, fucking into Peter even harder. What they did the other day made Peter feel dirty, but this makes him feel downright _filthy_ . He never knew it was something he wanted so badly before now. Being fucked in such a repulsive bathroom shouldn’t be erotic, and yet Peter is so _very_ close to coming.

Which makes it all the more unbearable when Wade comes and just _stops._ He sets Peter back on the ground, his legs wobbling as he tries to get the feeling back in them. The whole room spins, blurring together. He wants to move his hands, but Wade told him not to do so. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds Wade doing up his pants. He doesn’t even recognize his voice, having gone horse, as he asks, “Wade?”

Wade gently shushes him, giving a small pinch to Peter’s ass. “It’ll go down in a few minutes then we can go.”

“ _Wade_ ?” Peter doesn’t understand, Wade doesn’t want him to come? _Still?_

“I know, but you’ll get used to. I _promise_ , sweetheart.”

Peter looks down to his flushed cock between his legs, precome dribbling down onto the floor. How can Wade expect him not to touch it? It’s all he can think about, an all consuming need. He wants to scream, instead he bites into his bottom lip. The taste of copper blooming across his tongue. 

Wade rubs soothing circles across his back. “We can run it under cold water if you don’t think you can calm down by yourself?”

Peter flinches at the idea and quickly replies, “ _No_ , I can do it. Please don’t.”

“Of course you can,” Wade presses a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck. 

Trying to force his mind to think of anything other than the feeling of Wade’s hands proves to be a real challenge. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is probably closer to ten minutes, his erection manages to wilt. Wade is quick to rinse the cage and place it back on Peter, locking it shut once again. The metal is cold and it takes everything for Peter not to recoil away from it.

His shirt sits in a puddle and Peter would rather go without than put it back on. Even if it doesn’t leave much to the imagination on what he allows Wade to do to him.

Only, Wade takes one look at him and storms out of the bathroom growling, "Don't _move_." He comes back seconds later and tosses Peter a button up plaid. 

Not willing to question Wade on where he got it, Peter slips it on. His fingers shake as he tries to do up the buttons, he wishes he could calm down. "I'm not certain this is an improvement over the wet shirt option." He smooths his palm down over the front trying to get some of the wrinkles out of it, the need to look presentable at all times instilled into him by May.

It only takes Wade two quick steps to stand in front in Peter, crowding in close. He lifts the bottom of Peter’s chin until they are looking each other in the eyes. “We’ll get you home and then I’ll fuck you like you deserve.”

Peter inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed as Wade leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips. He tries to chase them when Wade pulls away, he wishes Wade would always be kissing him.

Taking hold of his hand, Wade leads Peter out of the bathroom. Everyone in the bar quickly turns back to what they were doing like they weren’t just staring at the door they walked out of. Peter’s face goes tomato red, he knows he wasn’t exactly quiet. He’s never had a room full of people know he just had sex before, he can’t say he likes the experience. 

The bartender, Weasel, pops up looking like a chihuahua that just had its kibble stolen. Which, considering he’s no longer wearing a shirt, seems accurate. He tosses Peter’s backpack at Wade’s head, who easily snatches it out of the air. 

“Should I install a bed in there for next time? Or maybe you’d like me to set up a stage in the middle of the place?” Weasel mocks.

Wade turns to Peter with a glint in his eye that Peter doesn’t like at all. “You’d look _so_ good on stage, Babylicious.” 

“No _way_ ,” Peter quickly snaps, worried that Wade actually means it. 

Wade pouts as his slings Peter’s backpack over one of his shoulders. “But, _babycakes_.”

Weasel rolls his eyes at them. “At least one of you has some sense, now if you could please leave before someone asks for a repeat performance? Hearing this deep fried turd go at it once was disgusting enough. My therapist isn’t qualified enough for this kind of trauma.”

Peter’s the one to pull Wade along this time, hurrying to get out of that place as fast as he can. He feels mortified but thankful that no one there is likely to ever run into him again. He just wants to get back home so Wade can make good on his promise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, this chapter honestly made me nervous to post because I was changing stuff up. Comments fuel my soul.  
> Will update as soon as I can, life be crazy. ❤️


	3. WADE MARKS HIS TERRITORY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again! Wrote some words, had a breakdown and eventually finished! Bon appetite!
> 
> Thanks as always to my awesome team [shadows_at_midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadows_at_midnight/pseuds/shadows_at_midnight) and [Siyuris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyuris/pseuds/Siyuris)
> 
> I've updated the tags and will probably continue to do so as a write. I've also changed the story summary because it was bugging me~ :3

It takes longer than it should for Peter to realize that he’s awake (or mostly) and what he is feeling is Wade’s hands running up the length of his stomach. Wade is mouthing a new set of bruises into Peter’s neck as he lazily grinds into the cleft of Peter’s ass. It has Peter gasping for air and arching back into the feeling just on instinct.

The sun is filtering in through the curtains, and it feels like it’s too early for that to actually be happening. Peter swears he had  _ just  _ fallen asleep, it should still be dark out. Not that it’s a problem for Wade; he doesn’t really seem to sleep. 

“I got bored,” Wade breathes out against Peter’s neck before biting down  _ hard.  _

Peter keens as he reaches a hand back to hold Wade’s head in place. Every bruise, every mark that he gets from Wade is a  _ gift. _ There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep them from coming. Unfortunately, this is something that Wade is very much aware of.

Hooking his leg under Peter’s, Wade leverages his so that Peter’s legs are spread wide open. There was no chance for Peter to put on anything after the last time Wade had fucked him; he had just fallen right asleep. So, nothing stands in the way now as Wade pushes past the tight rings of Peter’s rim. 

“God, you’re still so wet for me. I wish you could be like this all the time. Open and ready for me.” Wade rocks his hips slowly, pushing in a little further with each thrust. “You feel so good, Princess.”

Peter claws at the back of Wade’s neck, he feels like sobbing. It’s too much, too soon. It’s probably been less than two hours since Wade last had him pinned down, fucking into him without abandon. Everything feels raw and yet he can’t help but want more. It’s something he’s going to regret when he’s more awake, but right now all he can think about is having all of Wade deep inside him. 

“That's it, Sugarplum.” Wade encourages. “You’re doing so good. Last time, I  _ promise _ .”

Peter gasps. “You said that the last  _ two times _ .” 

Wade laughs, his whole body shaking. It’s a weird sensation when that person is  _ inside you. _ “It’s not my fault you’re irresistible, love bug."

“It  _ is  _ your fault that you’re such a horndog, though.” 

Wade pushes in the rest of the way, groaning out in pleasure as their bodies become flush with each other. “Yeah. That’s fair. I feel  _ reeeally  _ bad about it.”

Peter can feel Wade’s smile against his neck as Wade pulls out and slams in harshly _. _ It  _ hurts.  _ Peter sobs out a few choice curse words. 

Wade makes a shushing sound as he rubs soothing circles in Peter's hip. "I know, it’s okay. I'll go slower, it's been a long night but I know you've got this in you." 

Peter nods along, unable to vocalize that he understands. That yes, he can do this and even if he couldn’t he would still let Wade. That he would let Wade do whatever he pleases with his body. That he wants to be pushed to the point of ruin. 

True to his word, Wade does go slow, drawing out each thrust like he has all the time in the world. Each pass against his prostate makes Peter feel sparks of pleasure through his whole body. Despite his cock straining against the cage, he feels unbearably close to coming. He doesn't know how that works while he’s not even hard. 

All he wants is to feel Wade filling him.

Wade's fingers dig into Peter's flesh and he comes, letting out a soft groan into the back of Peter's neck. There is something so gratifying in Wade finding satisfaction in his body again and again. 

Wade makes no move to pull out, instead settling in and wrapping his arms around Peter's middle. His voice is low and raspy as he commands, "Get some more sleep. I've got plans for you later."

Eyes fluttering closed, Peter almost falls back asleep before remembering he already has plans. He forces himself awake, squirming against Wade. "Shit, I can't stay in bed all day, Wade."

"Of course you can, you just have to be determined enough and be willing to pay the delivery guy extra."

"I need to go visit my Aunt."

"The one pretending to be an extra on Grey's Anatomy?"

"She had a  _ heart attack.  _ She's the only family I have left. This is not something you’re allowed to joke about."

"Sorry," Wade whispers, giving a gentle squeeze to Peter. "Is she going to be okay?"

"At this point I think the bills are going to do more damage than the actual heart attack." Peter sighs, wishing he knew what to do.

"How much could a trip to the hospital cost? Ten dollars?"

Peter snorts in amusement. "I wish. When was the last time you were at the hospital?"

"I've never paid to go to the hospital, I'm Canadian."

Peter pulls away from Wade, making his dick pull free and all the lube and semen leak out as he jolts up into a sitting position. It’s a challenge to not let himself get distracted by it. He goes slacked jawed as he stares down at Wade, " _ You're Canadian? _ "

"Uh, you didn't know?"

"Who would guess that with the way you love guns!"

Wade rolls his eyes. "You've obviously never been to the prairies."

Peter pouts and crosses his arms across his chest. It dawns on him just how little he knows about Wade. He simply invited him into his life without asking any questions. "I just think you should have told me." 

Wade scoffs at the idea. "They're just details, they don't really matter. I didn't need to see your face to understand you or have your name to know that I love you."

"My name?"

Wade gives a soft hum in agreement. "I know you'll tell me when you're ready."

"That's  _ crazy. _ You can't tell someone you  _ love _ them in the same breath you admit to not knowing their name,  _ Wade. _ "

"But I do love you," Wade solemnly vows, his gaze unwavering as he watches Peter. "I love you more than anything and for a long time I thought that meant I had to let you be free to be with someone else. But they always made you miserable. They never understood you, not like I do. Nothing is ever going to change that. So here we are."

Peter's heart beats loudly in his chest, the sound ringing in his ears. He forgets to breathe, his whole body feeling heavy as stone. How can Wade be so sure? Peter's never held that kind of conviction for anyone. 

Wade reaches up to Peter and grabs the back of his neck. He pulls Peter down, slotting their lips together easily like they belong that way. The gentle slide of Wade's tongue has Peter parting his lips. He doesn't know how Wade does it, but it takes just one kiss and he's putty in the merc's hands. When did he become so weak willed?

It's Wade who breaks the kiss, leaning back with a soft smile and a look of complete adoration on his face. It hits Peter like the Juggernaut that Wade isn't lying and he truly does love Peter. There isn't a doubt in his mind about that fact, and he has doubts about  _ everything _ . 

The familiar feeling of panic sets in. Peter pushes himself away from Wade and off the bed. On his feet he feels the cold slide of liquid running down his thigh. The sensation reminding him just how much of himself he’s given to Wade already and how many times. He says on his feet, arousal coursing through him. His fingers twitch with the desire to pull Wade close again, to feel him pushing the mess back inside Peter like he’s already done countless times. 

Peter inhales a shaky breath and with great effort takes a step away from the bed. His voice croaks as he asks, “I should take a shower?”

Wade tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Peter flees to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He cranks the shower on and jumps in without waiting for it to warm up. The cold stings against his flushed skin, making him hiss in displeasure. He feels so disoriented, his eyes so unfocused, that he grabs the soap on relex and washes up without paying attention to what he’s doing. Except for when he goes to clean out the mess inside himself, then all he can think about is the feeling of his fingers and how unsatisfying they feel compared to Wade’s. He hurries through the rest, uncaring if he misses a spot before jumping out and toweling himself dry. 

He wraps the towel around himself despite the fact that he has nothing left that Wade hasn't already seen up close and very personally. He needs all the barriers he can create between the two of them if he’s going to make it out of his apartment without falling back into bed with Wade. 

He’s so very weak. 

Storming out of the bathroom with determination, his plan falls flat when he catches sight of Wade frying up some eggs on the stove. He didn’t even know he had eggs to cook. Wade does a little shimmy in the makeshift toga he made out of Peter’s sheets and blows him a kiss. 

“Why are you wearing a sheet?” Peter asks, dumfounded. 

Wade pouts as he tugs at the corner of his toga. “I thought it looked cool, and besides, your clothes don’t fit me.” 

Peter glances down at the ground to find one of his shirts torn in half. He bends over to pick it up and squawks in disbelief. “My shirt!”

“I’m gonna replace that!” Wade declares loudly. 

Peter drops the shirt back to the ground in defeat and makes his way over to his dresser to pull out a new one for himself. 

"Feel free to hang out in the towel," Wade calls out flirtatiously as he flips the eggs onto a plate. "I did the eggs in a hole style because you don't seem to own a toaster. Who doesn't own a toaster? How do you make eggos?"

Doing his best to ignore Wade's very substantial presence, Peter pulls on a clean shirt and some underwear. He searches around on the floor amongst the rest of his dirty laundry for the pair of jeans he was wearing yesterday only to be halted by Wade. He's spun around right into Wade's chest, those large arms circling around his middle to keep him there.

"Why are you in such a hurry? You're not the Energizer Bunny, you need to actually recharge."

It would be so easy to melt into Wade's embrace and spend the rest of the day there. It feels so natural to be like that. Still, he has things to do.

"I  _ can't, _ " Peter remorsefully whispers as he pushes away and takes a step back. "I need to go, my Aunt she—"

"She can wait for you to eat something _ , _ " Wade commands in a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He points to the edge of the bed for Peter to sit and goes back over to the kitchen (if you can call the tiny corner with a stove and fridge that) to grab the plate of eggs. Bringing the plate over, he shoves it into Peter's hands.

The first bite sparks Peter's appetite and he eats the rest in a frenzy. He didn't realize just how hungry he truly was. The empty plate is taken from his hands and replaced with a glass of water which he chugs down quickly, water spilling from the corners of his mouth. 

Wade takes the glass and wipes the water from Peter's chin with a swipe of his thumb. He brings his thumb up to Peter's lips with the instructions, "Every last drop."

Tentatively, Peter draws it into his mouth and sucks down on the tip to get the few drops of water there. Wade presses down on his tongue and rubs along it, the action making Peter think of an entirely different appendage thrusting into his mouth. He tries to take in as much of Wade’s thumb as he can, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. 

Wade inhales sharply. "Do you even know what you do to me?" 

Even if he knew how to answer that, Peter doesn't get a chance to respond, because in the next second Wade pulls his thumb free and kisses him. It's hot and needy like they haven't been at each other all night. It makes Peter’s single focus needing Wade in whatever way he can get. Wade pushes him backwards onto the bed, pushing up his shirt as he goes to palm at Peter’s chest. 

Wade’s able to grab both of Peter’s hands with one of his and pins them above Peter’s head. “Now, don’t you move a  _ muscle _ . I’m going to be gone for a second to rinse off my ding-a-ling so I can shove it down your throat.”

He let’s go of Peter, who stays just where he’s supposed to. The look of approval he gets for it is intoxicating. Wade backs up like he can’t stand the idea of looking away from Peter for even a moment, only turning around when he bumps into the door jamb for the bathroom. He pushes the door closed, though it stays open a crack. The sound of the water running shocks Peter out of his fixed state. 

What is he  _ doing? _

Wasn’t this exactly the type of situation he was trying to avoid? The sheets on the bed are disgusting, he can feel the crusty proof of their activities all over it. He glances around the room and a glint of red catches his eye. He only has a minute to act before Wade is done and yet he’s petrified. He wants so desperately to be good. 

To be everything Wade wants him to be and that scares him down to his very core. 

He forces himself up and grabs his suit up off the floor, after years of practice he’s changed into it in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t think, he just acts and jumps out the window in blind panic, knowing if Wade comes out he’ll get talked into staying. 

He hopes Wade can forgive him. 

The rush of swinging through the city always clears his head, and for a brief moment, he begins to feel more like himself. He hardly recognizes himself with Wade— has that part of himself really always been there? Wade hardly has to do anything to draw it out of Peter, just a kiss and he’s a whimpering mess. 

He stops on top of a building, horrified when he glances down to discover just how evident it is that he is wearing a cock cage, even with the extra padding he has there. There is  _ no way _ he can let anyone see him like this, he would never live it down. He’d have to leave the country, change his name even.

He keeps clothes stashed around the city in case of emergencies, or rather, he has a series of backpacks he’s never gotten around to collecting. He’s certain there is one a few blocks from the hospital May is in, if he can just remember  _ exactly  _ where he put it.

He spends the better part of an hour checking rooftops, even searching inside some of the air ducts that are easy to get into since they are one of his favorite places to hide things. He would have normally given up by now but the stakes are a little higher this time around. The entire time he searches he can’t help thinking how much easier it would be to just go back home and fall back into Wade’s arms. 

He’s  _ unbelievably  _ horny. 

When he finally finds the backpack, hidden on top of an office building, he nearly starts crying. He hugs it close, a little put off by how musty it smells. Still, he had almost lost hope in ever finding it. 

If he thought the outside was bad, the inside of it is worse. He must not have been the freshest when he changed out of these clothes, though he’ll take it over showing up at the hospital in his underwear. He shakes the clothes out hoping to freshen them up, not that it does much good. He sighs and quickly changes into them. His skin feels like it’s crawling with how gross they feel. He keeps the bottom half of his spider suit on just so he doesn’t have to be in direct contact with the jeans. May is going to rip him a new one when he shows up just for the wrinkles alone.

He climbs down the side of the building with the backpack slung around his shoulder. He spends the walk over to the hospital pulling on the hem of his t-shirt hoping to smooth it out. 

There are a few looks of concern thrown his way when he enters the hospital, probably because he looks (and smells) homeless. Peter does his best not to let it get to him and moves quickly. It’s much easier getting to Aunt May’s room this time, Peter having mostly memorized when he needs to make a turn. Nervous about what May will say about his appearance, it takes him longer to actually enter the room this time. He lingers in the hall, the nurses walking past giving him the side eye. 

Finally gathering up the courage, he pushes open the door to the room. This time May isn’t the only one in the room as there is someone in the bed beside her. They seem to be sleeping, their curtain pulled mostly shut. Peter rushes past it and slips past the curtain to where May is, finding her sitting up and picking at the muffin he got her yesterday. She looks better, more color in her cheeks today.

“Peter! I thought I said you didn’t need to bother yourself with coming again.” May exclaims, shocked to see him.

“Wow, nice to see you too. What kind of nephew would I be if I left you all alone in the hospital.” Peter rolls his eyes, smiling as he pulls the chair over to sit by her bed. He leans over and snags a corner of May’s muffin to eat.

“You could have at least waited to do laundry.” May’s nose wrinkles up at the smell.

“Sorry, the laundromat has been closed all week,” Peter lies easily. “Is it really that bad?”

“It brings back fond memories of rotting fish down at the docks.”

“Fond memories?”

“Ben used to work down there,” May says quietly, unconsciously touching her wedding ring. 

Uncomfortable, Peter tries to change the topic. “Are they taking good care of you here?”

May smiles back, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “The best. You don’t need to worry about me.” She reaches out and takes Peter’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. Her face scrunches up in confusion and she turns Peter’s hand over in hers. “Peter, are you wearing a ring?”

Blinking, Peter looks down at his hand to find that he is in fact wearing one. Has he been that out of it all morning that he didn’t notice? The light catches on it, the little stones on it glinting brilliantly. It’s the large one in the center that really catches his eye, the light refracting off it making it look like it’s sparkling. It's delicate yet masculine, the stones go all the way around and are set in what he thinks is silver. He inhales sharply, not knowing what to say. It looks like a wedding ring.

May tilts the ring in her direction, her eyes narrowing as she asks, “Are those real diamonds?”

Peter panics and pulls his hand back, laughing nervously. “Real? Don’t be ridiculous. Where would I get a diamond ring?” 

There is a calculating look in May’s eyes as she says, “You know you’re wearing it on the ring finger you would normally wear a wedding ring on, don’t you?”

“Am I?” Peter chuckles, his hands shaking as he pulls off the ring and switches it to his index finger. “Just a mistake, I must not have been thinking when I put it on.”

"Yeah? No recent trips to Vegas that I should know about?"

"May!" Peter exclaims, his race turning a bright red. "It's just a normal, very boring ring." He can't help but fiddle with the ring, spinning it around finger and watching the light hit every stone. He feels conflicted over its presence. "Do you know when you're going to be discharged yet?"

"Changing the subject are you? Very well. They are thinking I should be good enough to leave tomorrow. Do you think you can pick me up something clean to wear from home?"

"Already asking for favors, I think I can manage that."

"Oh, and Peter? Feel free to do some of your laundry while you're there," May says with a smirk.

“Do I really smell that bad?”

“No, of course not, but you should also definitely go right now to get that done.”

Peter slumps down into his chair with a sigh, turning his nose down to his armpit to sniff himself and confirm just how bad he smells. Airing them out really didn’t manage to do anything. “Alright, I’ll be back later and smelling fresher when I do.”

He stands and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving. Back on the street he finds himself needing to walk slower than usual because he keeps glancing down at the ring in his finger. He runs into five separate people just on the way to the subway. 

It’s even more beautiful in the sunlight. He’s going to kill Wade when he sees him for it. Against his better judgement he heads home so he can get an answer because there is no way it means what he thinks it means. 

_ No way. _

It takes forever to get home, giving Peter’s mind plenty of time to go into full panic mode. 

Which leaves him feeling extra annoyed when he finds the front door to his apartment building propped open with a box, meaning he’s probably getting a new neighbour and going to have to deal with someone moving in all day. Perfect. He’s half tempted to push the box out of the way but ends up leaving it as it is. No need to ruin someone else’s day. 

He climbs the stairs, now that he’s so close to home he finds himself speeding up and taking the steps two at a time. He gets to his floor only to find someone already there, he slows down so he won’t run them over. 

But he knows that profile and brilliant shade of red hair. 

“MJ?” Peter calls out, uncertainly. “What are you doing here?”

She turns around, a surprised look on her face. She's dressed up in a slinky blue dress that she only wears when she has someplace important to be. She looks completely out of place against the faded pink carpet and peeling wallpaper. “Peter! Your phone is still dead and I was hoping to, well, talk. If you have the time. The front door was open so I thought I would just let myself up.” She pushes her hair back behind her ear, a gesture Peter knows she only does when she is nervous.

“Yeah, we can talk.”

“Did you want to go to your apartment so we can sit down?”

“No!” Peter shouts horrified at the idea of Wade and MJ meeting. “It’s just more of a disaster in there than usual. I’m fine with right here if you are.”

“Oh, I guess I’m alright with standing out here.” She moves to tuck her hair again, a pointless gesture since it already is.

Peter shifts his weight from foot to foot, her nervous energy contagious. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

She takes a moment to readjust the way she’s holding her purse before saying, “It was really nice seeing you yesterday. I sometimes forget just how much you have on your plate all the time and how hard you work to maintain it all. I wanted to apologize for not being considerate enough about that.”

“Thanks—”

“And it made me realize how much I miss you.”

Peter flinches back, not knowing how he’s supposed to react to that. She was the one to break up with him after all. “I miss you too, MJ.”

She smiles bright and wide like that was just what she was hoping to hear. “Do you have the time to take me for dinner tonight? I want to talk about us and the possibility of a future together.”

Peter’s entire body goes ridgid, he never imagined that MJ would ever want to get back together. She had made it very clear at the end just how much of a failure she thought he was. But maybe she regretted her words? “I—”

They both jump at the sound of a loud bang, turning to see Wade strutting out of Peter’s apartment in a bright pink tracksuit like he owns the building. Where did he even find one that fits someone his size? If he’s heard any of the conversation, he doesn’t show it. Still, Peter would gladly accept the floor opening up and swallowing him whole rather than deal with this situation. 

“Babe! You’re finally _home_. I’ve missed you so much.” Wade says sweetly, not even giving MJ a single glance as he walks right up to Peter and grabs him around the waist. 

If Peter wanted, it would be easy enough to slip away and make a run for it but the tantalizing promise of Wade’s lips getting closer to his keeps him glued to the floor. Like with every kiss with Wade, Peter melts into it and is unable to control his reaction. He clutches onto Wade and kisses back feverishly, forgetting where he is. 

It takes MJ loudly clearing her throat, hopefully for the first time, to snap Peter out of it. He sheepishly extracts himself from Wade, who is grinning devilishly, and glances over at MJ. 

“So, this is—” She gestures at Wade, her nose scrunching up in disgust.

“My dentist!” Peter blurts out, scared of what Wade might say.

“Dentist?” MJ repeats, dumbfounded. 

Wade is quick to jump in, “I was just checking his tonsils, I’m  _ very _ thorough.”

MJ taps her foot in annoyance. “I didn’t think Dentists do house calls, but then I suppose it must be hard to get people to come to you when you look like  _ that.” _

Wade goes rigid beside Peter. Of all the things Peter thought MJ capable of, he never thought something like this. He can't help himself from getting defensive, Wade can’t help the way his skin looks, even if it must look awful to an outsider. He snatches Wade's hand and squeezes it, remembering just how long it took Wade to be comfortable being in public without a mask. The hesitation he had from a moment ago vanishes in the face of Wade’s plight. "I invited him here. Because we’re together.”

"That was fast," Mary Jane grouses. "Odd choice for a  _ rebound." _

Wade speaks up, a happy tinge to his voice that Peter finds more off-putting than anything. "We've actually known each other for  _ years _ . Always had a thing for one another, but being a dentist takes me out of the country from time to time. I'd leave and he'd manage to end one thing and start another before I could get my chance. Finally the timing worked out for it, and unlike  _ some _ I don't intend to let go. His are the only tonsils for me."

If glaring could inflict damage the hallway would be a full out warzone with the way Wade and MJ were at it. Peter suspects it's only a matter of seconds before it gets physical.

Luckily MJ backs down, probably realizing just how much bulk Wade has on her. She smoothes a hand down the front of her dress and straightens her hair. "Well, it was nice seeing you, but I have somewhere to be. Let me know when May gets out of the hospital, would you Peter?"

Peter winces at the use of his name. "Yeah, I'll give you a call."

Wade gives a little wave as she walks past. "It was  _ so _ nice meeting you."

Wearing the fakest, most sugar coated smile Peter's ever seen in his life. MJ pushes past them, bumping into Wade, and rushes down the stairs. They stand and listen to the click or her heels until they fade out the front door.

Peter yanks his hand away from Wade’s and storms off toward his apartment in a huff. Why can’t anything in his life ever be easy?

He has to do a double take on the number on his front door to make sure he has walked into the right place. There are boxes piled high in every available space. It hardly looks like the same place. There is a fluffy new faux leopard fur duvet on his bed and what looks like new sheets underneath it. Piles of pristine plates and cutlery sit on his counter. There are bags sitting against the wall, filled with other household items. He can’t even comprehend how much all of this must have cost.

The thing that really catches Peter’s eye, that has his jaw hitting the floor, is the red velvet wing chair tucked into the only available space next to his bed. It looks like something that would be found in a lavish Victorian home rather than a shitty almost condemned apartment in Queens. Where did Wade even find such a thing?

Wade comes up behind him and tugs Peter into his chest. He props his head on Peter’s shoulder and grumbles into his ear, “I wanted you to tell me your name.”

It's a struggle for Peter to pull himself out of Wade's warm embrace, he shouldn't be so addicted. "Where'd all this stuff come from? Did you catch a thief and we're waiting for the police to come collect it? Please tell me someone is going to collect all of this." 

Wade frowns and tries to pull Peter back into his arms, only for Peter to use his spidey reflexes to jump away. "Don't worry, we'll have more than enough space for both our stuff when we move."

"When we  _ what? _ " 

"It's a pretty small apartment for the both of us."

"Are we  _ living together?" _ Peter's pretty sure he hasn’t hit such a high octave since before puberty. 

Wade cocks his head to the side, his brow scrunching up in confusion. “You weren’t expecting it? Even though you said you were mine…”

Peter sputters, not sure what sort of logic Wade is using. He pulls the ring off his finger and holds it up for Wade to see. “Is that why I have a  _ wedding ring _ on my finger?” 

“What ring? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Wade scoffs, unable to look Peter in the eyes.

He yanks the ring off his finger and holds it up in front of Wade’s face. “You got your logo engraved on the inside of it!”

Wade squints at the ring in Peter’s hand. “Oh yeah,  _ that  _ ring.”

“You have to ask before you do these sorts of things! You aren’t allowed to just decide these things for yourself.”

“So I should have asked you over a romantic candlelit dinner, you mean?” Wade says solemnly, his face an emotionless mask. 

The realization over what Wade had planned the other night hits Peter, and in that moment there are millions of things Peter wants to do. He wants to scream, loudly and unapologetically. He wants to make Wade show how he’s feeling, to make him not stand there like a statue while saying such things. He wants to ask why he would even want to get married to someone like Peter. Mostly, and most horrifying, he wants to kiss Wade, to bite his lip and watch it bleed. 

The desire that wins out, is the one where he wants to run away but he only goes so far as to take a single step back. He’s breathing hard, dread sinking in over just what he ruined. He wants to respond but his tongue feels incapable of forming words. Why does he feel so distraught, when he knows he wouldn’t have said yes? 

“Was it a lie when you said you were mine?” Wade accuses, taking a step closer to close the distance Peter was trying to create. 

Peter shakes his head, his hair swishing around his head violently. 

“You weren’t at all tempted to fall back into the arms of your precious little strawberry?”

“Wade, I—” Peter croaks out, realizing that right now the way Wade is acting is frightening him. There is an aura of danger that Peter is deeply turned on by and is hoping deep down, gets directed towards him. He’s tumbled down the rabbit hole and there is no crawling out. He can barely believe himself when he says, “Maybe you haven’t convinced me yet. You might need to teach me a lesson.”

Peter can tell the moment Wade shifts gears as his eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth ticking up as he squares his shoulders back and stalks closer. “I’m thinking I need to teach you a lesson about being so naughty, running off when you shouldn’t. Remind you who’s in charge. ”

Peter shivers, his arousal spiking. It should be a crime for someone to look as menacing and seductive as Wade does in a pink tracksuit. Peter is offended by his own sensibilities, but knows his own attire is probably not so easily overlooked even if he knows Wade has smelled worse. He strips down quickly and tosses the offending garments clear across the room knowing they are probably going to need to be burned to get rid of the smell. 

The pleased look he gets from Wade makes Peter squirm in anticipation. Wade walks over to his newly acquired chair and sits, his large frame filling the entirety of it. The presence he commands makes it seem like he’s sitting on a throne with the knowledge that every word he utters will be obeyed.

Peter doesn’t understand the part of himself that wants to give Wade that. The desire is so strong he doesn’t even think he could stop himself if he tried. He doesn’t know what it says about either of them that they’re more comfortable doing this than talking.

“Come here,” Wade commands and points to the spot just before him.

Peter rushes over to stand directly in front of Wade, his mind racing over all the possibilities of what is about to happen. Wade pulls something from his pocket and Peter inhales sharply at the sight of a small key. He’s quick to push his boxers down past his hips so Wade has access. 

Wade leans forward, cupping at Peter’s balls as he slides the key into place and the lock clicks open. He pulls the contraption off and tosses it to the side. 

Wade pats his knee expectantly and firmly instructs, “Bend over.”

It’s hard for Peter to grasp what’s about to happen; he thinks there is no way Wade is about to do what he’s implying. No one has ever laid their hands on Peter in that way before, not even as a child. Still, he finds his feet moving one in front of the other as he makes his way over to Wade. He crouches down and settles himself over Wade’s lap, getting a nice view of the floor when he’s done. His face must be nuclear red with how embarrassed he feels in this pose.

“How many do you think you deserve for today.”

Peter squeaks and buries his face into Wade’s thigh. How is he supposed to decide something like that? “You know, I feel like I’ve already learned my lesson. Yup. Lesson definitely learned, I know it so well I think I’m going to write a book on it.” 

Peter starts to push himself up and off of Wade’s lap. He doesn’t get very far before being jerked forward from the force of Wade’s hand descending on his ass, a loud smack ringing through the apartment. Peter is stunned, his cheeks stinging from the impact. He can’t believe that just happened. 

Wade rubs softly along the place he hit, and Peter wonders if he’s admiring his work. Is there a handprint? Peter wants to know. There is adrenaline pumping through his veins and for the life of him he doesn’t know why he’s so turned on from it all, why he wants Wade to do it again and why he’s growing hard at the thought of it.

“So how many do you want?” Wade coaxes, clearly amused by Peter’s reaction. 

Peter hesitates before saying, “T-ten?”

Wade’s hand snaps forward, hitting Peter hard enough to jolt him forward again. He’s breathing heavily, and his ass is really starting to sting now. There’s something so demeaning about this whole act, like he is Wade’s to train and teach. The next blow makes Peter cry out and brace a hand against the chair to keep himself from being pushed right off of Wade’s lap. 

“Think I can make your ass red enough that it will look like an apple when I’m done?”

Peter gulps, his dick twitching with excitement at the thought. He wonders, not for the first time, what is wrong with him. Wade's hand descends on him again, the sting making Peter yelp. It's a strange sensation, being able to get hard after wearing the cage, like being about to stretch your whole body out after being curled into a ball for a long period of time.

To put it simply, it feels fantastic and has Peter wanting to feel the continuous burn of Wade's palm. 

Peter turns his face to glare up at Wade as he sasses, "Are you trying to hit a fly or are you going to actually spank me?”

Wade’s grin in response is absolutely feral. “Oh you’re asking for it now, babydoll. You’re gonna see why I’m the ping pong champion.”

“What does that have to—” Peter yelps at the impact, his whole body lurching forward. Wade must have been holding back more than Peter thought, there are tears in Peter’s eyes from the last one. 

“Wish you could see the way your ass jiggles from that, did you just inject jell-o in there?”

Peter’s breathing heavily, his mind still reeling from the blow. “I love jell-o, it’s all—” Peter starts to wiggle around trying to imitate the way jell-o shakes.

A hearty laugh from Wade at the sight makes Peter squirm faster but Wade puts a stop to his antics with another smack to the ass. 

He doesn’t stop this time, his blows coming in quick succession. There are tears running down Peter’s face, his cock leaking precome in a steady stream. He feels dizzy with the amount of blood flow that’s being directed downwards, not even capable of any coherent thoughts.

“You’re doing so amazing,” Wade praises between hits, those simple words making Peter feel giddy with joy. 

He thinks Wade must have gone over ten by now, but he lost track after the fourth one. He doesn’t want Wade to stop, every smack hits a different part and he wants to feel the lasting proof of them everywhere. 

When he stops, it’s to worship the work he’s done. Brushing his fingertips along the curve of Peter’s ass, every small touch making Peter quiver in delight. 

“I think I only managed to teach you that you’re going to get rewarded when you act out. You really loved that, didn’t you?”

Peter nuzzles his face into Wade’s face harder, hoping his reply comes out muffled. “I might have.”

Wade’s hums thoughtfully, his hand pushing between Peter’s legs. “I’d say part of you definitely enjoyed it.” Wade wraps his fingers tightly around Peter’s throbbing erection as he softly coos, “Why hello there little toothpick, you sure did enjoy that.”

It takes Peter’s brain a second to catch on to the fact that Wade is speaking directly to his dick. “Did you just call my dick,  _ toothpick _ ? Just because he isn’t a monster like yours, doesn’t mean Moby is  _ little _ .”

“That’s a horrible nickname for this cute little peen!”

“Is not,” Peter grumbles. “I doubt yours is any better.”

“Dr. Cocktupus. 

“Your dick did  _ not  _ go to medical school.”

Wade gasps, “Are you saying Cocktupus isn’t smart enough? I’ll have you know he’s the smartest part of me. 

Peter bites down on his tongue to keep himself from laughing. “Now that I don’t doubt.”

In retaliation Wade smacks Peter’s ass again, the sound of it makes Peter’s ears ring. “Seems like you need another visit from the Doctor, get your daily injection.”

Peter groans, “Seriously?”

“I want you on your hands and knees in three seconds.”

The thought of getting fucked has Peter scrambling off of Wade’s lap and kicking his boxers the rest of the way off. He throws himself on the bed, bouncing slightly. He settles himself with his ass in the air and his face inches from the new sheets Wade bought. They look and feel expensive, probably silk that they’re about to irreparably ruin.

Why does that thrill him? 

Something bounces on the bed next to Peter’s head, it surprises him to look over and see the bottle of lube. Shouldn’t Wade have it?

“You’re gonna open yourself up for me today.”

Peter glances back over his shoulder to see if Wade is being serious right now. The look he sees on Wade’s face leaves no doubt that he is. Peter glances back at the bottle unsure. “But I’ve never…” 

“You don’t need a doctorate to figure it out. Just spread some lube on your fingers and do it how I normally do.”

Peter snatches the bottle up and pops the lid open. He coats his first two fingers with more than he intends, the mess dripping as he reaches between his legs. The initial touch feels awkward and very unlike when Wade does it. He’s tempted to ask for Wade to take over, but something gives him the impression that it’s not an option. So he tentatively pushes a finger in, surprised at how easily he is able to do so. It’s strange to feel how tight he feels around just one finger and he can’t imagine how Wade is able to fuck into something so tight. It takes him a while to work up the nerve to push his finger in deeper, though he finds the angle halts him from getting his whole finger inside. He tries to relax and adjust, moving his finger in shallow little movements. It helps him to imagine Wade is the one doing it and emboldens him to thrust in harder. 

He quickly finds that one finger isn’t enough and pushes in a second, moaning at the stretch. His movements become sloppy and uncoordinated as he tries desperately to get his fingers deeper. Wade would already have him stretched unbearably wide at this point, his wide fingers forcing Peter to open up for him. He wants to push in a third but he can’t get the angle right and he only becomes frustrated. 

He doesn’t realize he’s pleading out loud until Wade grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away with a gentle shush. 

“Don’t worry, the Doctor is in the house. You just let me take care of it, okay sweet pea?”

Peter isn’t above begging for that. “Wade,  _ please _ . It’s not  _ enough _ .”

A gentle touch to the back of his neck is all it takes to calm Peter down, a soft exhale leaving his lips. Wade doesn’t stop there though, clamping his hand down around his neck and slamming Peter’s face into the mattress. He wonders if it’s strange for him to find the heavy weight of Wade pinning him down such a comfort. He tries not to think about it, instead just enjoying the sensation of Wade tightening his grip. 

Wade presses the tip of his erection against Peter’s hole but makes no move to push in. Growing impatient, Peter tries to push back but finds he can’t move very far. 

“Wade,  _ hurry up already.”  _ Peter growls out, grinding his teeth in frustration. He can’t stand how empty he feels. 

“You don’t rush art,” Wade chides but uses the moment to thrust into Peter. 

It feels like all the air is being pushed out of him as Wade bottoms out. He loves that moment, when he’s finally full and the only choice his body has is to adjust to the intrusion. 

“You’re always so  _ tight _ , even with everything I’ve done to you so far.” 

“Wade, you need to  _ move _ .” Peter commands, clawing at the sheets to try and steady himself. 

Wade gives a throaty laugh, pulling out and snapping his hips forward hard enough to make Peter cry out. It doesn’t take long for Wade to pick up the pace, fucking into Peter at a punishing speed. It’s enough for Peter to believe that maybe his dick does have a doctorate. It would explain how easily Wade is able to locate his prostate, how he knows just how hard to go and how fast Peter wants it. 

How he knows to keep pressing down on the back of his neck, making it hard to move or even breath. 

Peter feels the echoes of pleasure right down to his toes. The constant stream of words from Wade’s lips, telling him how perfect he is for this. That he was meant for this.

Peter thinks it must all be true, because he’s never felt more right than when he’s like this with Wade. More than anything he wants to grab his cock, he’s so close he wants to scream. Instead he begs for anything Wade will give him. 

It makes Wade slam in harder and dig his fingers in so hard that he must be bleeding at this point. Not that Peter feels that pain, he’s already past that point and feels blissed out. His mind is quiet and floating up in the clouds.

It’s Wade’s voice calling out to him, telling him once again that he’s Wade’s, that finally does it for him. He can feel his orgasm through his whole body, a feeling that is more intense than anything he’s ever felt. It feels like he comes forever from the buildup of the last couple days. His vision blurs, every muscle in his body feeling sore. He wants to sag down into the bed but Wade’s still not done with him, his arms now wrapped wound Peter’s middle to keep him propped up as he fucks Peter through the aftershocks. 

Wade bites into Peter’s shoulder as he comes, his rhythm faltering as he does. He makes no move to pull out when he’s done, and Peter likes it when he stays in him like that. Wade rolls them onto their sides, and snuggles his face into the mess that is Peter’s hair. 

“Knew you had it in you to come like that,” Wade praises, his hands running along Peter’s side adoringly. He presses a soft kiss to Peter’s shoulder.

Peter can’t even form words to respond, an unintelligible string of vowels leaving his mouth. He hopes Wade understands though. 

Wade chuckles, “That good, huh?”

The only answer Peter can give is to snuggle back into Wade and sigh with contentment. He’s never had an orgasm like that before, didn’t know they could even feel like that. He cranes his neck backwards and makes another unintelligible sound that luckily Wade is able to decipher. Their kiss is slow and sloppy, Peter too exhausted and out of it to have any coordination. It’s the only way Peter knows how to express how he’s feeling. 

He can feel Wade growing hard again inside of him. He can’t help but hiss as he presses back into the sensation, his body still feeling oversensitive and rung out. He still wants more, wants to push himself. Wade doesn’t agree with that sentiment though, and he pulls out. 

Peter whines at the loss. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, there will be plenty of time later. Now you just lay right here and I’m gonna go get you some water.” Wade presses the tip of his finger to Peter’s nose, pressing it like a button. 

The bed bounces slightly as Wade wiggles his way off the mattress. Peter watches with half lidded eyes as Wade pads around toward the kitchen sink. He moves around like he's already intimate with his surroundings, opening the correct cupboard to grab a cup. He even turns the water the right way for cold water despite the fact that it's labeled backwards.

Why does it warm Peter's heart to see that?

Grabbing one last thing, Wade turns and brings the cup over to Peter. Wade kneels down next to the bed and tilts the cup towards Peter so he has access to the bright green curly straw sticking out of it. Where did Wade even get that thing?

It takes him a couple tries to get the straw into his mouth. He becomes mesmerized watching the water slowly draw up the length of the straw, curving around each bend and looping around until it finally ends up in his mouth. He keeps letting the water fall back down just so he can watch it again and again. 

Wade patiently watches all this, his hand steadily holding the glass for Peter’s antics with only a fond look on his face. Peter doesn’t know why someone would look at a dumbass like himself like that. It takes him over ten minutes to drink the whole glass of water, the endeavour taking the last of his energy reserves. He closes his eyes with a small sigh. 

“Sleep is a good idea,” Wade murmurs. He brushes a stray strand of hair back behind Peter’s ear and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting old guys, tomorrow is my birthday. What even is time?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://timidturnip.tumblr.com/)


End file.
